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DAISY SWAIN, 



THE 



FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 



A TALE OF THE REBELLION. 



JOHN M. DAGNALL 



ILLUSTRATED. 



BEOOKLYN, N. Y. 

1865. 




?'^;t'>V 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by 

JOHN M. DAGNALL, 

In llie Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 

Eastern District of New York. 



Smith & McDouqal, Electrotypers, 84 Beekmaa St. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

PAGB 

Reuben Swain— His Character — The Birth of Daisy. . . 7 

CHAPTER II. 

The Comet— The Northern Fanatic— The Southern 
Demagogue — The First Shot at Sumter — The Bat- 
tle—The Wounded Federal 23 

CHAPTER ni. 

Reuben's Alarm at the Sound of Battle — Daisy's Ab- 
sence from the Cot — Her Return Home with the 
Wounded Soldier 43 

CHAPTER IV. 

Athol tells the Cottagers the Story of his Life— His 

Convalescence and his Love of Daisy 60 

CHAPTER V. 

The Lovers— The Vow— The Adieu— The Storm— The 
Guerillas— The Altercation 75 



Vi CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VI. 

PAGE 

The AMction of Daisy— The Death of both her Parents 97 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Funeral of Daisy's Mother— The Strange Visitor.. 106 

CHAPTER Vin. 

Athol's Letter to Daisy — She quits her Place of Birth 
— Her Search of Athol — Her Despair — The Loyal 
Peasants — The Guerillas — The Burning Hut — Its 
Victims 118 

CHAPTER IX. 
Daisy a Captive — The Bivouac— Daisy's Doom 138 

CHAPTER X. 

Daisy's Rescue — ^Her Deliverer — Her Meeting with 
Athol— The Battle— Death of the Lovers...... 154 



CHAPTEE I. 

Beuben Jwain — !^i$ f hat|actet| — ^he Bii|th of Baisy. 

Long ere ruthless civil war laid waste 

The fertile Shenandoah Valley, there dwelt, 

In all his rustic nature true, and free 

As the wind, contented Keuben Swain. On 

A green mound, close by a stream, zigzagging 

Like an eel on sandy bed around the vale, 

Reuben's lovely home, a neat white cot, stood 

Raised on cedar spiles. This marked his prudent 

mind ; 
As ague poisons lurk in meadow damp 
And spring freshets had inundate the plain. 



8 DAISY SWAIN, 

No cupola his cottage roof adorned, 

Nor did paintings decorate its inner walls 

All sucli ornate pride lie left to autocrats, 

To tilted lords, and traffic's purse-proud kings. 

For, truly, Reuben's nature was too simple 

And full of the most gentle virtues as 

To even think of such vain, showy things ; 

No, his i^ride was only that of self-respect. 

Being one of God's true creatures, Reuben, 

Ere each morning sun arose, would upon 

His bended knees, at matin prayer, offer 

Up his humble thanks to the Giver of aU good 

For blessings which he hourly conferred. 

Of health and vigor, with their many joys. 

Cheering his path through hfe to ripe old age. 

Accustomed from his earliest youth to waken 
"With the day, Reuben always felt a joy 
To see, peering through the gray light of dawn. 
Streaks of the rising sun, and watch the flush 
Of golden light resplendent spread along 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 9 

The sky ; tlie verdant landscape o'er illume ; 
Tip with purpling gleams the forest pines ; 
Disperse the blue mists from the mountain's side. 

Then, thus early in the fresh morning air, 
Eeuben, with supple step, would saunter through 
His well-cultured fields ; and, as he trod the grass 
Bespangled o'er with crystal dew, he'd watch 
"With gladsome eye his flocks upon the hillside 
Browse, and judge, with reason clear, the yielding 
Promise of his crops ; humming to himself. 
As with joyous heart he homeward bent his steps, 
Some tender breathing of his soul in song ; 
For happy as his days were pure, untouched 
By gnawing want, unstained by misery. 
Lived gentle Reuben in his rural home. 

Free he was from fear of loss, from cares, distrust. 
The worldly-minded and penurious have ; 
From pangs of dire adversity 
Attending trade and constant trafficking ; 



10 DAISY SWAIN, 

Eor in the bounteous vale where Keuben lived, 
The only clouds which lower'd were filled with 

rain ; 
Eeviving parch'd lawn, drooping plant and flower. 

Nor could the jade of fickle fortune coquet 
With his pride, as vain were all her blandishments 
Him to seduce from tranquil state. Yet, 
Notwithstanding Reuben's days were balmy 
As an Indian summer's cheering glow, still, 
His life by no means was a listless dream 
Of indolence, of apathy, of sloth ; 
For an innate energy to labor 
On his acres broad strung his nerves with strength ; 
Gave tension to his muscles, suppleness 
To his joints, an appetite for food, though 
Simple, yet wholesome ; brought sleep to his eyes, 
Ease to his mind, and to his heart tranquillity. 
Beside, he earned from his patch of land, funds 
Enough to keep himself in time of need ; 
In case his strength might cease from old age. 



THE FLOWER OF SHEIfANDOAH. 11 

Or stricken be by some infirmity. 

This was the only selfishness he knew ; 

And he took good care the surplus cash which he 

Thus saved should cater to no banker's greed, 

Nor usury's bait aUure it from his grasp, 

Nor paper bonds with golden promises ; 

For Reuben, in his lifetime, heard much of 

Failures, bankruptcy, and breach of trust ; 

How in a moment's time the rich, as well 

As the poor man's all, had been from them 

swept. 
No, Reuben was sole guardian of his gold. 
But his hoarded pile filled no chink in a waU, 
Nor hole in the ground, but in an oaken chest. 
It snugly laid concealed from prying eyes ; 
Unsafe, one would think, from prowling burglar, 
Whose greed for others' goods, on some darli 

night. 
Might tempt his predatory steps to roam 
Those parts in quest of spoil, and noiselessly 
Sack good Reuben's coffer of its treasure. 



12 

But the numbing hand of time had scarcely 
Affected Reuben's senses ; for his ear 
"Was then as quick to catch faint sounds, as when 
A boy, hunting squirrels in the wild woods ; . 
And therefore sounds of friendly footsteps knew 
From the stealthy tread of a sneaking foe. 
Nor was his the sluggard's leaden sleep, who 
"Will, even when his eyes are open, lie 
In supine lethargy dozing, peering 
Through a misty veil of film ; and bhnking 
In the hght of day, soon again drop off 
Unconsciously to sleep. But no such languor 
Blurred the light of Reuben's eyes : once their lids 
"Were raised, their lamps would brightly burn 

renewed 
"With vigor's oil, by which he'd soon discern 
Strange visions, should they near him fiit at night; 
Which as soon as seen about, his hand 
Would on his gim, already primed to kill 
The prowling wolf and panther sly, that sometimes 
From their lairs in forests wild came, and raised 



THE FLOWEE OF SHENAI^DOAH. 13 

Nocturnal havoc 'mong his sheep, be clasped. 

Then, as to his neighbors of the plain, Eeuben 

Knew their habits, tastes, and pedigrees too well 

To fear his gold would jaundice their eyes. They 

Keuben's gentle, upright nature also knew ; 

Knew that the beam of divine justice shone 

In his heart to every one ahke within 

The vaUey ; and blending theirs with his, lived 

In peace and harmony together : 

For each one's sense of equity was just. 

Honor was kind Reuben's guide ; probity 

Their counsellor ; nothing foul corrupted 

Reuben's mind ; nor was his taste depraved ; 

His bev'rage was the same that Adam drank : 

Water pure from clear springs and rocky founts. 

This he knew would poison nought within, nor 

Thrill his nerves awhile with spurious ecstacy. 

To deaden the keen sensibiHty 

Of body, heart, and soul, like alcohol. 

The demon, that fires with delirium 

The drunkard's brain, and fills the minds of men 
2 



14 DAISY SWAIN, 

With dark designs and treason's treach'rous guilt, 
Angry quarrels, murder ; then remorse which 
Struggles hard with sleep. No, Eeuben would 

shrink 
With loathing from the devil's nectared bane, 
And aught which tended to engender heat 
Of blood, burning thirst, and gusts of passions 

vile. 
Temperate wishes only were in his souL 

The fleecy fabric shorn from his own sheep. 
Woven on his own loom, sufficed to guard 
His body 'gainst inclement gales, and warm 
Him in the fiercest wintry blow ; and in 
This simple raiment clad, Eeuben felt 
As great as any Eastern nabob proud, 
Bedecked with royal robes ; as nature's lord 
Was he, and reigned supreme in his neat cot, 
His castle proud on nature's realms built, 
On a green lawn, within a bounteous plain. 
Where creation was prohfic with her products. 



THE FLOWEE OF SHENANDOAH. 15 

To Eeuben 'twas the loveliest spot on earth, 
Where many sunny years of bliss he passed. 
Sharing the joys of dear domestic life 
With the partner of his soul, his Nancy dear, 
More faithful, fair, and kind than half of those 
Who blaze in vain, proud, ostentatious show : 
One who knew her duties well, her womanly 

sphere. 
And the sweet pleasures of the virtuous heart ; 
Which was the only bhss her husband sought. 

There, in the quiet place wherein the happy pair 
Found shelter, food, and rest, reason ruled 
Their minds and guided them with judgment ; for 
Too well they understood the sacred bond. 
By which their two dear souls were bound as one. 
To mar their wedded bhss with household jars, 
Knowing angry breath in ears young is baneful : 
And in sweet connubial union their love 
Long ago had multiplied itself. The seed 
From vigorous stem was cull'd, and free from 



16 



DAISY SWAIIs". 



Withering blight ; kind nature undertook 
The task imposed ; and time brought forth a bud 
Of grace, all tenderness, which doubly blest 
Their yoke, and crovvned with joy their nuptial 
couch. 




THE FLOWEE OF SHENAT^DOAH. 17 

The germ in beauty's mould was cast, budded 
Forth, and blossomed ; in sacred soil grew up 
To vernal morn of life, fresh as a rose 
In unmolested shade, or violet chaste 
In all its virgin freshness, unassuming. 
Modest, all rural grace, and simple charms. 

The joy of her pure heart, all smiles, all cheer, 
Like rising sunlight on a dewy lawn, shone 
On her dimphng cheeks ; rouged with tincture from 
Vermeil meads : health's purpling flood that 

coursed in 
Her azure veins. 

The vital essence glowed 
In her eyes, radiant, pure, and mild, like two 
Bright orbs fixed in the coronet of Heaven : 
Endowed they seemed with photographic power 
To print from blooming flowers certain shades ; 
As they one noon-time bright, while ardently 
Fixed upon a variegated bed, drew 



18 DAISY SWAI1S-, 

By some charmed affinity in their gaze, 

Blended hues from both blue-bell and lily ; 

And so bright withal, that e'en a lover's glance 

might 
Dim before their lustrous beaming, or be 
Dazzled so his mind's eye would flashing see 
Across his brain, a thousand stars glitt'ring 
Eesplendent with heavenly jewelry. 

Enrobed in raiment woven plain upon 
Her mother's loom, she, by broach or bracelet 
Unadorned, looked with more attractive grace 
Than if bedecked in fashion's gaudy finery. 
Besides, her form was faultless as the Venus 
Of Milo, as fair, as tender to the view ; 
Kequired no false blandishments to lure 
The eye, nor stuffs to give herself proportion : 
Her heart was void of all such guile, as truth. 
Early to her God, had risen up her soul 
To heaven, where her faith in Him reposed. 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 19 




Thus arrayed in nature's simple beauty, 
Daisy Swain, the flower of Shenandoah, 
Since taken from her parent bed, was 
Mildly nurtured with parental sway, 
And prospered in her father's fostering hands, 
Full sixteen years unconscious of a thorn ; 
Unstained by care and sorrow's withering sigh 



20 DAISY SWAIN, 

Nor had she felt the pangs of fickle love, 
That sighs assent, then vanishes from sight. 
She was her parents' joy ; their dear pledge of 
Reciprocal love ; their pride of heart, whom 
They idohzed with fond, indulgent care. 

Truly, Reuben blest his happy lot, as 
His dear wife and child made his cherished home 
An envied Paradise, remote from power, 
Despots, and proud high-toned authority. 
For thus in quiet state he lived in vale of peace. 
Where nature gave refreshing showers to 
EVry living creature in the valley ; 
High and low of birth ; and of mean degree. 
There, playful zephyr breathed around his cot ; 
And feather'd minstrels trilled their dulcet pipes 
Melodiously from boughs of hickory green 
And chestnut, whose leafy branches intertwined 
Above its roof, and formed a canopy 
Which screened, from scorching mid-day heat, 
one of 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 21 

The most happy men on this revolving orb ; 
One in whose heart the pure flame of devotion 
Burned, whose eye, when raised toward the Great 

Supreme, 
Saw His blessed spirit in the heavens 
Poised on beams of holy light eternal ; 
For in Him who gilds the clouds with serene light. 
And moves them at His will, was the faith of 
Keuben, who, although with eyes untutored. 
Saw the book of God was always open 
To His creatures ; bound with blue sky and 

illumed 
"With mingling tints of hills, woods, and plains, 

which 
Marked the pictured landscape as the blessed work 
Of Hands unerringly Divine, and governed 
By a Mind most potent to control all 
Within the universal world. His who keeps 
An eye benignant on His creatures. 
Yes, Reuben saw God's kingly spirit throned 
Among the hills, the forests, vales, and wilds ; 



22 DAISY swai:n-, 

And heard His awe-inspiring voice thunder 
In the torrent's roar, murmur sweetly in 
The tingling rill, and whisper in the breeze ; 
Felt His friendship in the warm sunlight, gave 
Life, and joy, and hope to those who are not 
Tied to earth by doubts and worldly things : 
Saw God's glad eye peering through the stars by 

night. 
In concentric glimpses from His throne of 
Glory, where, when heaven would untie 
His human bands, Reuben knew full well that 
His good soul being from its earthy matter broke, 
Would gladly mount the void of viewless air. 
And mingle with the spirits of the pure 
And holy. 




CHAPTEK II. 

^be (^omet — $ho "^otithetin !tfanatic — (i)hc ^outhei|n 

demagogue — ^he itfitist 0hot at ^umptcr^ — (^he 

Battle — ^bo Moun4e4 itfeder^al. 



Scarce liad the shock of party strife begun 

To vibrate on the nation's heart, than from out 



24 

Its dreadful depths a comet flash'd athwart 

The lurid sky, and glanced its fiery gleams 

Upon star-gazers' eyes. They shrank amazed. 

With wonder and dismay alternate, 

In their breathless stare. Timid hearts fluttered 

With affright. Their fear-fraught minds imagined 

That the face of heaven scowHng lowered ; 

That darker frowns deformed the brow of night, 

Just where the shadow marked its orbit's trail. 

Foredooming to their terror-stricken hearts. 

That soon their sun of day would be eclipsed 

Forever in chaotic darkness. Even 

Those not quite so superstitious foreboded 

The celestial visitor ominous 

Of evil dire unto Columbia's sons : 

Some great misfortune to their nation, torn 

By faction, on the brink of dissolution. 

Would be rent asimder by domestic foes. 

Thirsty for spoils, for power, and ambition. 

Alas ! thus luckless did the omen prove ; 

For dark spirits then in secret conclave 



THE FLOWER OF SHEIS-AKDOAH. 25 

Thronged around us almost everywliere, 
Scheming to fire our minds with discontent, 
Intensify our party pride to frenzy ; 
And to barter our blest inheritance * 

To secret traitors and the fiend war, 
Which often plague the world and banish 
Men's repose. 

'Twas in those momentous times. 

That, with his hoary head absorbed, hxmg low 

Upon his agitated breast, and with 

His anxious visage haggard made by thoughts 

EebeUious, there sat alone in his abode 

A vulture-beak'd victim of unsated pride, _ 

Deeply hatching in his subtle brains schemes 

The most seditious to disturb the peace 

And sever the bond of social hfe and 

Friendship's holy wreaths, which bound us North 

and South. 

Matured, some wily thought his bent brows raised. 

Quick as a meteor's flash in night's dark sky, 
3* 



26 



DAISY SWAIN, 




A sudden flush of inward joy lit up 
His scowling features. Then starting to his feet, 
He paced, with nervous tread, the tapestry, 
And rubbed his hands exultingly at some 
HeUish plot his crafty mind conceived. 
'Twas to kindle with incensive breath, 
The igneous volcano of rebellion. 
Smouldering in the breasts of freemen South : 



THE FLOWEE OF SHENANDOAH. 27 

For, the aim of all his Hfe had been to earn 
In their mad struggles, the short-lived glories 
Of a puffed-up name, e'en tho' 'twere coupled 
With foul and blasting infamy, likewise 
His country's disgrace. 'Twas this false honor 
Alone inspired his dark soul and made him, — 
Hoping to attain his wished-for height — 
Venal both to his constituents, and 
Blushless at his own plans to embroil the States 
In brutal, internecine conflict : for. 
The fanatic's wily mind did well discern. 
In the proud South, the darker shade of 
Slav'ry, which to distort from features real was 
The sole purpose of his crafty fancy. 
There, upon his mental vision glittered. 
From the Ethiopian's brow, a diamond black : 
The dazzling prize so touched his covetous soul, 
That down he knelt before his black idol ; 
Crouched, spaniel-lilie, to kiss its feet ; 
Turned up the white of his eyes to'ards heaven. 
And implored the Lord on high to befriend 



28 DAISY SWAIN, 

The poor, fat, dusky son of Africa, 

Manacled with chains, which made his pierced 

heart 
Wail echoes the year round to their clanging sounds. 
What sanctified disguise, base hypocrite ! 
What a feint delusive the hand of power 
To grasp ! Was it not a mask most guileful 
Through which you sought to gain your own bad 

ends ? 
For you could well dissemble and disguise 
Your dangerous intents. 
• 

Thus, under pretence 
Of human good and his country's honor. 
The favorite side he joined, the people's votes 
By subtle craft and subterfuge to win : 
In stately halls shrieked freedom for the blacks, 
To a gloomy, narrow-minded concourse 
Of visionary bigots and fanatics : 
Told how the slaves in servile chains lingered 
Out a hfe far worse than death itself ; and how 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 29 

Their cruel masters flayed them so, till, through 

Their lacerated flesh, their bones protruded. 

" We must rise," he said, " and overwhelm 

In one common ruin, these brute men ; must wrest 

The beastly chattels from the monsters ; and if 

Opposed by them in our incursions on 

Their soil, our heels, where'er they tread, ruins 

Kuthless marks must print whilst Hberating 

From their cruel bonds, a disfranchised, abused, 

Unpitied race." 

Such were the vie^^ he vented 
To his Hst'ning hosts, whose hearts he fired with 
Indignation keen against the slaveholder. 
Then him they sanctioned as their party choice ; 
Rose him with their fulsome breath and votes from 
Common life to an exalted station : 
For, on the tide of popular favor. 
Soon he floated into office, to rule 
And gutter like a meteor for an hour. 



30 DAISY SWAIN, 



1 



Meantime, in the haughty South, a demagogue 
Urged, from the rostrum, in the slave mart. 
Excited, discontented freemen, 
To spurn all future refuge 'neath the " flag 
Whose starry folds wrapt freedom in her grave." 
His ambition burned in ruthless deeds ; 
For his pride was that of glaring pomp, love 
Of conquest, and of fame that might resound 
Through vaulted skies, till times remote should 

hand 
His glories down in the historic page. 
There, the weak«mortal to true glory blind, 
Stood venting forth the fervid emanations 
Of his own proud, domineering soul, in 
Gestures like the antics of an idiot. 
To a crowd of lawless bullies, youths, and men. 
Inciting them to raise the standard of 
Revolt against their lawful government. 
He said : the crisis called them to their duty ; 
That if they would be freemen, they must leave 
Their peaceful homes for high aims to attain. 



THE FLOWER OF SHET^ANDOAH. 31 

By tailing arms up in defense of State rights ; 
That their firesides and altars were endangered 
By a factious horde of galling bigots, ^ 
Then installed in office, who would them govern 
With an iron rod, just as their ruthless wills 
Proposed : invade their sacred fields, ransack 
Their homes, and free, without law or price, their 
slaves. 

Thus harangued the fire-eating scorpion 
With wrathful tongue unruly , soon he fired 
His listeners' minds and hearts with loud 

complaints 
Of tyranny. Tyranny ! in a land 
Where independence hfts her dauntless brow, 
And where freedom is Columbia's boast ! 

" If we had withered in the womb," he cried, 
" Or that when we were infants at the breast, 
Our mothers had, with deadly nightshade smear'd 
Their nipples o'er, and then had, with their milk 



33 



Thus impregnated witli the bane of death, 
Suckled us to graves untimely, better 
It would have been, than for us now to smother 
In our freeborn hearts the chiding curse 
Of Northern foes, whose galling enmity- 
Has, in the South, Liberty's bright sun dimmed 
With Discord's blackest cloud. 

" But, friends, I say, 
Let the infernal band of livid spectres 
Of despair once cross our path ; the horde of 
Hell-bom snakes will in their warped skins 
Shrink dismayed before our might and strength : 
We'll our bright meads redden with their blood ; 

heap 
With their marrowless bones, the pageant death, 
On ev'ry Southern plain ; while, with shot, with 
Shell, and murd'ring knife, we shall their States 

invade : 
Ay, plant as many bayonets on their fields 
As there are blades of grass. Therefore, vaHant 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 33 

Be. Endure with fortitude the toils of 

War. Be warriors all in conflict, nor let 

One of you a coward turn ; but when you find 

The dastard Yankee wounded, bleeding out 

His craven spirit on the ground, permit 

No soft, mawkish pity your tears to crave, 

As the hardest heart will sometimes melt 'fore 

Dying eyes, but let your own eyes at him roll 

"With fiery scorn. Let all your breath be charged 

With Anger's poison ; and like a serpent 

Hiss into his ears the venom'd bane ; you damn'd, 

Sneaking, lily-livered Yankee, die ; 

We no quarter show, no mercy have 

For nigger-thieves ; then with your bayonets pin 

Him to the ground." 

Then, loud his maddened hosts. 
With wild hurras, the demagogue applauded ; 
Swore that they'd with fire and sword do deeds of 
Kuthless stamp ; would pillage, burn, leave behind 
Them death in every Yankee town ; and bear 



34 DAISY SWAIjS^, 

Ensangumed trophies to their iree-made homes ; 
Map out through fell havoc on rebeUious soil, 
A nation of their own, for them to fix, 
Till doomsday came, a firmer yoke upon 
Their slaves. 

Then soon the startling news on wings of lightning 

Flashed through ev'ry part of fair Columbia's land ; 

That, in the South, insurgents were, with bombs, 

SheUing freedom's starry ensign on 

Sumter's isolated fort, waving. 

Eetribution, thereupoii, was promised 

By the North. Futile were all peace petitions 

To avert the strife ; as rage vindictive 

"Was too blind for moral arbitration ; 

And yet both sides were base enough to call 

Upon high Heaven, in the clash to aid them. 

Sounds of trumpet, drum, and shrilling fife were 
Heard through all the land, rousing men to arms, 



THE FLOWER OF SHENAITDOAH. 31 

Hurrying on the deadly conflict by 
Parasites and cowards, both of North and South, 
"Who feared to stain their own right hands in 
Human gore ; and from window, pole, and peak, 
Waved the civic garland of our liberties. 
Inspiring chivalrous men to furious fight. 



Then songs and bloody hymns were sung by sons 




36 



DAISY SWAIN, 



"Undaunted, as they thro' the madden'd nation 
March'd straight on to the red fields of slaughter, 

there 
"With dearest blood to fertilize the soil. 
And earn, in righteous cause, a glorious name. 
Soon war and rapine wild, both far and near,*stalked 
Madly o'er Virginia's soil. There, down in 




\ 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. o7 

The fertile valley of the Shenandoah, 
Kesounded loud red War's fierce rattle. There 
Advancing hosts of bannered foemen met, 
Emblazoned gay, in pride of fancy dress, 
And charged each foremost line with musketry. 
Alert, the rebels bold with desperate dash 
Hurled, with all their ardor wild, their forces strong 
Upon their Federal foes. Fiercely flashed 
The red artillery. Swiftly shrieking shells 



'^^ ' ^^ ^]))^ 




38 DAISY SWAIN, 

Burst in among the brave, and made their blood 
In torrents flow. Then bayonets charged and 

dashed 
Against each ghtt'ring blade. Horse and rider 
Plunged into the fray, and swelled the mortal strife 
Of battle hot : while Death, through sulph'rous 

clouds 
Of smoke, grinn'd and gloated as he eyed firm 
Heroes, from their shattered lines and columns, 
Fall and swell the slaughter ; and where the 

maimed 
Lay, here and there, upon the gory field. 
Bending the air with fitful cries and groans. 
Writhing, like wounded snakes, from horrid 

tortures. 

So, in full retreat and loose array, down 
The hill the Federals wildly rushed, o'erwhelm'd ; 
Eank and file, hard pressed by the rebels : 
Through thickets dense, 'cross fertile fields and 
vales, 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 39 

Dismayed their broken columns flew, leaving 
On that bloody field many comrades brave, 
Who now sleep in their trench-dug sepulchres. 
Yet, one among the federal bands, wounded 
And faint from loss of blood, footsore, halted 
At a gurgling brook, where he, all smeared with 
His Hfe-blood, stooped down ; and, in the hollow 
Of his right hand, scoop'd drops of water few, 
With which his burning thirst he quenched. 

Then, from 
The margin of the stream, he tried to raise himself. 
Fearing, lest he there too tardy stayed, captured 
He might be by some disloyal enemy 
Prowling rampant round those parts, in hot 

pursuit 
Of straggling and of ambushed foes : but irksome 
Was the task. The sinews of his knees 
Were void of strength. His tired Hmbs the burden 
Of his body could not bear. A shudder 
Shook his jaded frame : 'twas the harbinger 



40 DAISY SWAIN, 

Of comfortless despair which soon darkened 
His fevered brain ; for, ere long, his head grew 
So giddy, that the verdant landscape seemed 
Unto his blurred eyes, just hke a green mist 
Risen from the ground. Then, round and round, 

his head 
Eeeled. Faint and sick at heart, he stagg'ring 

grasped, 
With feeble hands, a willow twig danghng 
Near him ; and with its friendly aid lowered 
Himself down upon the damp grass, resolved 
To abide the ordeal of strengthless fate. 

Then wrapping himself up in the standard 
Which he through a hard campaign had borne : 

happy 
In the thought that should his eyes ne'er open 

more 
To view the morning's light, its starry folds 
Would be, at least, his shroud obsequious. 
So, weary, worn, all gnashed, exhausted, quite 



THE FLOWER OF SIIEKANDOAII. 41 

designed, lie let his weak frame throb and 

struggle 
'Gainst his parting life upon the humid ground, 
"Where outstretched full length he lay beneath 
A spreading willow, whose pliant branches 
Waved above, and soothingly fanned his face, 
All gaunt and spectre-like : yet, though grim 
His features were, and shaded with the hue of 
Death, still, in their fine outlines remained 
Traces symmetrical, showing that they had 
Been in the fairest mould of beauty cast. 

But his fevered mind soon somnolent became. 

In dreamy mood he thought of the home he'd left 

Behind him, and of his aged mother 

Far away : he fancied he saw her smile ; 

And with her arms outstretched in fullness of 

Joy, ready to clasp to her fond bosom 

Her soldier son. He, likewise, thought he heard 

Her soft voice say, " Oh ! Athol dear, how glad 

Am I to see that you have home returned 
4* 



42 DAISY SWAIIS^, 

From the rebellious, frantic scheme, with none 
But honored scars." Then, thoughtful, he smiled ; 

but 
'Twas only a sicMy gleam of joy. 
As pale and ti:ansient as a streak of sunlight 
Breaking through a rain-cloud, which shone upon 
His wan face : for soon the past joys of home 
And friends, his ardent fancy had conjured, 
Quickly vanished before his reason's strength, 
And left his mind in dark, despondent gloom. 
Then he wept ; for he keenly realized 
The true condition of his hapless phght 
And how fallacious was the hope, in such 
A dying state, of ever sharing, with 
His tender parent, her gladsome care again. 

Ah, then, he knew no good Samaritan 
Was nigh with balm to heal his wound ; nor did 
He hear an angel's hght foot fall upon 
The ground, bringing an assauging draught to ease 
His racking pains. No, he gave up his life 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 43 

As lost, for each moment he heavier breathed, 
And louder by spells, he groaned from his ache-;, 
And also thought he heard the voice of death. 
In the hollow moaning of the wind. 
That fretful sighed around him : a fitful gust 
Of which, just then, from off his temples smooth, 
Detached some beaded drops of fevered sweat 
Which clung like dew upon a hly's leaf 
On his pale brow : one pellucid globule 
Koll'd upon his half-closed eye-lash ; its gleam 
His wandering mind, and vision dim, mistook 
For the glitter of the vestal star twinkling 
Through the willow's foliage above his head. 

'Twas then twihght, yet no friendly succor 
Came to his aid. Alone, the evening dew. 
As 'twere, seemed to commiserate him, in 
His hapless state, with tears compassionate 
Shed on his languid form ; and when he saw 
The Hght of day fast fading from his view, 
Hope's bright beam flickered in his panting heart. 



44 DAISY SWAIN, 

Still, he'd judge it folly to repine 'gainst 

What Heaven ordained, as his conscience told 

him 
That man, soever good, and soldier brave, 
Are sometimes in this checquered life destined 
To suffer torturing ills, which often 
Bring them, ere their lives have run the length of 
The allotted span, down to early graves. 

But it would, he thought, have been more 
honorable 
If fate, with her unerring hand, had hurled 
Upon the field, rebellion's missile swift 
Through his brain ; so that he could have fallen 
'Mong many warring hosts unknown, but brave, 
And mingled his with their courageous blood, 
Than there, with feelings sore, linger and waste 
Away by fever ; be flesh-conquered ; die 
And rot : his body fill no hallowed vault 
Nor soldier's grave, but lie exposed, where 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 45 

Buzzards sought their prey : he shudder'd at the 

thought, 
And gasping, shrieked aloud, they soon would 
Fly around his bier and riot on 
His hfeless flesh. 




CHAPTEK III. 

Reuben's M\^rn at the S5ound of Battle — daisy's 
i^bsence tiiom the (^ot — |leti Eetmin !l^ome 
with the Mounded ^oldieii. 
* 
Upon the balmy breeze of that same morning 
Eeuben, the peasant, from his smiHng cot, 
Heard the battle's horrid din resound, 
And saw, afar, thick, sulphurous smoke dimly 
Rear in black wreaths to'ards the glaring sun. 
'Twas but an hour before the valley rang 
With war's alarm, that in the morning ray, he 
O'er his neat fields trod ; nor feared to meet 
Friend or enemy of the warring bands. 
Both were foes to him. 

For when the roar of 
Booming cannon echoed on his startled ear, 



THE FLOWER OF SHEIS-ANDOAH. 47 

He thouglit that ere Jbhe evening came, he'd look 
Upon his burning cot and wander round 
A homeless man. But twiHght came. Long since 
The battle's warhke blasts had died away ; 
And glad he was to find his fields were still 
Adorned with waving grain. 

But when he saw 
His beloved child was not at home to cheer 
Him with her pleasing smile, and bless him at 
The evening board, a poignant pang went 

straight 
To his heart, that some mishap his daughter 
Had befallen. 

For no tidings of her had 
Arrived, since, in the gleam of morning's sunshine, 
Her father's cot she quit, to saunter through 
Her native vale ; and blithe and jocund wind 
Amid its green retreats ; joyously scent 
The woodbine wild, and quaff the balmy air ; 



48 



DAISY SWAIIS" 




And to let the zephyr of fragrant meads 
Mellow in deeper tints her beamy face. 



But as she gayly tripp'd with fawn-hke steps, 
Through green paths, observing with enraptured 

eye. 
The varied landscape o'er — her soul's dehght — 
And breathing sylvan sweets with spirits gay, 



THE FLOWER OF SHENAl^DOAII. 49 

War's infernal gong througli the surrounding hills, 

Reverbrated loud and pierced her ears. 

The dread shocks her heart's blood stagnated. 

Fear 
Forced its livid pallor o'er her roseate cheeks, 
Which marred awhile the lustre of their bloom. 
But the rose ne'er drooped. The shock was but 
A passing gust, which chilled awhile her warm 

blood, 
As she soon revived and glowed again in 
All her fullness of sweet budding charms. 

Then curiosity's incentive power 
Entered her timid heart, and allured her 
To a hillock's rocky crest hard by, to view, 
If possible, the spot contentious where 
Warring discord waved his flaming brand ; where 
Freemen's hands fraternal were in kindred gore 
Being imbrued. For she, long hidden from 
The busy world in her elysian home. 
Knew not what misfortune's cloud o'ershadowed 



50 DAISY SWAIN 



Then lier sunny j)lain and leafy bowers, 
Wherein some sixteen joyous springs she'd past, 
Unknown to woes and cank'ring tortures keen. 

Thence far across the Shenandoah plain. 
Looming o'er its richly-cultured fields. 
She saw the smoke of battle curhng rise 
In clouds beneath the sun that fiery glared, 
On her astonished sight, through a black'ning pall, 
Which rose up from the scene of carnage. Wrapt 
In amazement, she wondered at the sounds 
The battle storm awoke, and why they roared 
Unabated through the peaceful valley. 

Ah ! she little dreamt that then the reign of 
Peace and order in the North and South had been 
Overthrown ; that 'twas the unhallowed work 
Of bold, bad men, compelled to relinquish 
Their high seats in senate halls ; and others 
Who long nursed in hot-beds of human fraud 
And folly, had nearly all their Hfe-long lives 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 51 

Devoted their time and talents to grasp 
The nation's spoils and tamper with its laws ; 
That Columbia's realms, once free to all 
Mankind in language, conscience, creed — domains 
Extending from New Hampshire's snow-capped 

cliffs, 
As far as CaHfornia's golden shores, 
"Wherein blest content, prosperity, and 
Holiest liberty all fraternal dwelt, 
Were then ruled by usurpation's edicts, 
More galling to a people free than any 
Arrogant ukase of a tyrant proud. 
Who trembles night and day upon his throne. 

At length the din of battle paused upon 

Her ears. Twilight shadows round her gathered ; 

And setting sun-beams faintly gleamed upon 

A rolling cloud, whose ruffled crest, bright plumed 

With crimson tints, passed o'er her. Thus 

forewarned 
Of night approaching the shadowy rock, 



52 



On which she sat, up she quicMy rose, and 
Down through the hillside's winding paths she ran 
Towards the cot. 

Scarce had she neared a glade. 
Ere she heard, upon the evening wind, screams 
Of woe. Bewildered quite, she quickly turned 
Around and gazed about, above, below ; 
Peeped through the murky glare of eve, but 

nothing 
Saw of hfe. Then she wondered whence the sound 
Arose, and what it could have been : listen'd 
Like a hare startled by game-dogs on the scent : 
Still, all was silent round, save the rusthng 
Of leaves, the barking of tree-toads, whimp'ring 
Of bats, and the incessant buzz of insects. 
Holding theu' nocturnal jubilees. 

So, she fancied that the wail she heard was 
Perhaps a catbu'd's woful mew, and hastened 
On again along her woodland way. But ere 



THE FLOWER OF SHENAIS^DOAH. 53 

Her nimble feet had measured paces few. 

The groan again, more agonizing still, 

Burst on her ears. Appalled at the sound, she 

shrank, 
Like the tendrils of a fragile flower 
In a chill autumnal gust of wind, still. 
Soon her doubting fears were gone ; as, she knew 
Full well that such a sad lament could only 
From a human soul distressed issue. 

Then, soon. 

Compassion moved her. Through a willow copse 

She hied, slow pacing cautiously, and reached 

The margin of the stream where lay half dead. 

The wounded, soldier. Soon the tender fair one 

Tremblingly bent o'er him and closely scann'd 

Him with her pity-gleaming eyes. She saw 

The Hght of Hfe still flickered in his heart ; 

But wav'ring on the balance side of death 

Whose shadow glimly danced upon his features, 

Which in their livid aspect seemed to her 
5* 



54 



So beautiful, so mild. Then, with mute surprise, 
She viewed his anguished mien, and wound all 

bare : 
And dropt in cleansing tears, the limpid chlorine 
Of her soul, upon his bleeding scar. 
A transitory smart he felt. He muttered 
" Oh !" and casting up his glassy eyes, he saw, 
Low bending o'er him, so grateful in the gloom, 
And all compassionate, the maiden fair in 
White robe meekly clad. 

" O Heavenly Father ! 
"What angel from thy throne of glory hath 
Fled, to chant the sad requiem o'er my cold clay ?'* 
He cried. " One whom a ruling Pro\idence 
Hath hither sent, the friendless to befriend. 
The helpless to save," she cried : saying which. 
She brushed the matted locks back from his 

brow. 
Then, she from her side a napkin took. 
Saturated o'er with dew, and with it laved 



THE FLOWEE OF SHENANDOAH. 55 

His pallid brow ; his parched lips moistened ; 

plucked 
A plantain leaf whicli on the streamlet's margin 
Grew, and with its cooling texture improvised 
A bandage for his wound ; then tied it with 
A ringlet of her auburn hair. 

Meanwhile, 
She made his prospects of recovery bright ; 
Told him, that not far from thence safe, nestled 
In a grove, he would within her father's cot 
A refuge find. This cheering hope his soul 
Elated. Forthwith his glad heart urged his hand 
To be extended to the gentle maid. 
She took it kindly in her own and raised, 
With all the strength her fragile structure had. 
Him from the blood-stained ground. Faltering, 
He leaned his right arm on her shoulder. Halting 
At alternate steps to breathe. Well she bore 
The burden of his weight, without a murmur. 
With maidenly resolution all the way 



56 DAISY SWAIN, 

Thro' thicket paths, 'cross glades ; guided only 
By the light which faintly glimmer'd from the cot. 

Then, soon before its wicket gate they stood. 
Quick the maiden pushed it open ; as quick 
Upon its thongs elastic back it swung. 
And grated harshly on the latch. The pointer 
Barked and quickly scented the stranger ; while 
The father to his feet started up, gTasped 
His gun, and to the door ran just as she knocked. 
The gentle tap he knew came from his daughter. 
Quick the door flew back, creaking on its hinges, 
Upon the threshold stood the anxious father, 
"With extended arms to clasp his daughter ; 
But back a pace he bounded, as his eyes 
In started sockets stared upon his child. 
All fagged, all faint, with the feeble soldier. 

Soon the mute appeal of Athol's wound went 
To the parents' hearts. Warm commiseration 
Thawed from out their breasts the icy chill of fear. 



THE FLOWER OE SHEISTANDOAH. 57 

* 

As they soon placed him on a mattress near 
Some hick'ry faggots blazing, a helpless. 
But a welcome guest beneath their roof. 

O'er 
His prostrate form they hung in speechless trance, 
And gazed in artless grief upon the gash 
A bayonet's point had in his right arm 
Punctured. Quickly, from the orifice of 
The ugly scar, the mother cleansed with 
"Water warm, the fetid pulse that flowed ; 
Then, with a linen bandage, moisten'd o'er 
With arnica, the wound she neatly bound 
Within its styptic folds, and left it so ; 
To nature's healing care and time for due 

amendment. 
This done, the daughter from her mother's 

hand — 
The one nearest her sympathetic heart — 
Took a strength'ning draught ; a potent febrifuge 
And charmed carminative it was, most 



58 



DAISY SWAITf 




Happily blended, and gave it to him 
In do3es small, but oft. 



In due time, it soothed 
His fevered brain, allayed his burning thirst, 
Stopped his stifled moans of anguish ; and caused 
In the accelerated current of 
His blood, health, that had in his faint nature 
Dormant lain, to mount up to his bloodless cheeks, 
And flush them with returning vigor's hue. 



THE FLOWER OF SHEl^ANDOAH. 59 

Then the bland and soothing influence of 
Sleep crept into his wakeful mind ; and deep 
From the living world his thoughts immersed in 
Her somniferous dews. 

Thus, in soft composure 
Wrapt, the parents, as they to their rest retired, 
Prayed that Athol's future hardships might be 
Few ; and bade their wilHng daughter keep 
Her midnight vigil near his couch ; raise, 
"When the fond task required, his wounded arm ; 
To prop his drooping head upon the pillow ; 
And wait upon her suffering friend as 
For a loving brother's pains. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Mhoi tells the (^ottaget|8 the ^tot|vj of his Xsih — 
1$\$ (Convalescence and his Love of Baisy. 

At early dawn the wounded Federal, 

Mucli improved in health and quite refreshed in 

Spirits from his night's repose, awoke ; and glad 

Was he to find himself so near kind friends. 

Especially his frail rescuer, who 

Then stooped o'er him, with helping hands and 

raised 
Him on his pallet soft. He knew no balsam 
For his pains and aches more sanative than 
The soothing office in which she was 
Engaged, and thanked her for the kind attention 
She had rendered. Daisy curtseyed low and 

said : 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 61 

That both her mother dear and father had 
Taught her, long since, the divine injunction, 
" To do good to others forget not ;" 
And never, vrhen want and suffering implored 
Her kind assistance, to withhold rehef. 

As the impressive tones on Athol's ears 
Fell from her lips, his head rechned, entranced 
With dreamy thought, which Daisy soon observed : 
But she knew not what was passing through his 

mind, 
Nor why hope's inward beam his countenance 

brighten'd ; 
For her gladsome gaze was too intently 
Fixed upon his handsome face, admiring 
The graceful contour of its features, which, 
In his pride of youth, show'd her that scarce had 
Twenty summers' blooms their roseate honors 

shed 
Upon his head. 

6 



62 



Then God's voice persuaded 
Him to prayer ; and, in a benediction 
Wliicli he gave, he prayed that Heav'n kind would 

watch 
The generous streams which flowed so purely 
In their hearts, from being corrupted by 
Misfortune's turgid dregs. 

Meantime, all the folks 
With Athol's modest mien enraptured felt ; 
Yet wondered why a youth so devout of heart 
Was in soldier's garb bedeck'd. But they soon 
Dispelled the doubt which then their minds 

engross'd ; 
For they saw, m his ingenuous looks. 
Bland and affable deportment, it was 
Easy to address him on the subject 
Of his life and ventures. So them he soon 
Enlighten-d ; closely they gather'd round him, 
And with mute attention drank his accents 
As he spoke. 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 63 

He first, with measured terms, 
Denounced the poHtical fomenters of 
The North and South : told how they had incited 
The rebellion, and brought the country, then, to 

such 
A pass with their mad schemes for fame and pelf : 
Related, from the day his patriot heart 
First burned with martial fire to do battle 
For his country, the warlike incidents of 
His soldier life : told how high his feehngs 
Ran, unbiass'd by sect or party, with love 
Of duty to the cause of Union, right 
Or wrong ; that, being one of the first aroused, 
He joined a gallant legion of the North, 
One thousand strong, all fine picked men, and 

march'd 
Unflinching to the strife, to overpower 
The rebel chief's deluded myrmidons ; 
To curb the proud, defiant spirit of 
The would-be king, who, in his haughty pride, 
Wish'd to sit enthroned amid his slaves ; but that 



64 



The North had so far baffled his ambition : 
That his Confed'racy was but parchment, 
Which would, ere long, be all ablaze and scatter'd 
To the four winds of earth in charred tinder : 
And that the arch-traitor would himself, like 
A rabid dog, be driven in a hole 
Obscure, and kept there till remorse and grief 
Devour'd him, for the murd'rous butcheries 
He had caused, the widows and the orphans 
He had made. 

Athol, then, recounted o'er 
What risks and dangers he had undergone ; 
How oft they'd met the foe, and routed him 
Through woods, down dales, 'cross floods, and 

over 
Kidges blue of Virginia ; till, elated 
By so much success, they one day, while 
Pushing their course on thro' the Shenandoah, 
Were met by the enemy reinforced 
With many battahons strong ; and in which 



THE FLOWER OF SHEIiTANDOAH. 65 

Encounter, for the first time, the hot tide 

Of battle turn'd against them : then described 

How they stood the shock of kindred hosts, during 

Full six hours its seething lava rolled 

" Yet," he cried, " altho' the North-men brave fell 

Fast and thi-ck around us, still we felt embolden'd 

By our other deeds triumphant, that we'd gain 

The fight ; but the unequal prowess 

Of intrepid Jackson on our right, 

Turned the fortunes of the day agamst us ; 

And thousands now of our brave boys lie 

Stiff and black upon that bloody field. 

Terror-stricken, the remnant of our corps. 

Then fled, pell-mell, m all directions ; 

And I likewise, wounded as you see, took flight. 

But, it seemed that I, alas ! was doomed to meet 

A fate worse than that which I had then escaped : 

To fall upon- the road and die, a prey 

To craving hunger, thirst, and loss of blood. 

But your noble daughter — God bless her — chanced 

To hear my groans ; came where 1 dying lay , 
6* 



66 DAISY SWAIK, 

And, touched with pity at my hurts, my moans. 
And aggravated feverish fits, minister'd, 
With her cheering voice, sweet consolation 
To me, just as I of hope was nigh bereft. 
Then, all gentleness and patient meekness. 
Here my guiding angel brought me. 

Then as 
Athol pantmg heavily, paused to gain his breath. 
The daughter, in the meantime, thought it strange 
He'd left his home, his friends and kindred, and 

asked 
Him, with tones persuasive, if his mother 
Had not bade him stay at home to comfort her 
Eather than to risk his life in battle. 

" She did and said : ' Dear Athol, be not rash, 
You*re too young yet to cope with stalwart men 
Inured to camp life, whose trade it is to spill 
Their fellow mortals' blood, when passions rife 
Contending, bid them strike each other with 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 67 

Vile implements of death. Why, then, do you, 
Athol, so young and innocent, desire to swell 
These hordes of harden'd men, perchance 
To make your mother a childless parent, 
For her with tears maternal to bewail 
In aged widowhood, your dear loss, when 
Here at home, you've health, rest, and ev'ry com- 
fort.' " 

Then, the emotions strong in Athol's heart, 

Forced, from its clear springs, feeling tears to gush 

Into his eyes. A nervous tremor shook 

His frame. He back, exhausted, on his pallet fell. 

Quite overcome, and wept in his despair. 

That p'rhaps, he'd ne'er again, upon this earth, see 

His fond parent more. 

Touched at such a sight, 

Tears warm and sympathetic glistened in 

The old folks' eyes. His grief their daughter's 

bosom 

6* 



DAISY SWAIN, 



"With compassion moved. Soon at his side, 
His tender friend to pain stooped near him ; and, 
With her sweet condoling breath, she whispered 
In his ear, the sovereign balm of hope, to heal 
His lacerated heart. He heard her voice, looked 
Up, and saw the cherub bending o'er him. 
Soon the cheering soul-hght of her eyes absorb'd 
The grieving streams which coursed his anguish'd 
cheeks, 



m 




THE FLOWER OE SHENAITDOAH. 60 

And lighten'd up his abject mind. From the 
Earliest to the latest hour the dear fond girl 
Her friend's kind wishes blest. He tasted in 
The soothing draughts she gave, her mingled sweets 
Of soul, and drank affection, full of hope, 
In every drop that *suaged his pains. 

So, as 
Time roll'd on, Athol's frame evinced contempt 
Of death ; and, ere a month elapsed, the tide of 
Life, full high, in the crooked channels of his veins, 
Return'd its purple flood. Restored at last, 
He from his ailing couch arose, renewed 
In lease of days and years, quite sound in health. 
In spirits buoyant ; but with a sensation 
In his heart unfelt ere he became thus 
Convalescent. A sacred charm it was ; 
Supremely divine ; so soul entrancing ; 
But quite mysterious in its strange effects 
Thro* all his being : but especially, 
Did young Athol, when his benefactress 



70 



Stood, so kind, so fair and pure before liim, 
With lier brow serene as tlie effulgent moon 
Beaming down thro' Heaven's blue dome, keenly 
Feel, in his warm heart, that inward pleasure. 

Was it the grateful services, which in 
His hours of sickness, her gentle hand had 
Render'd ? that which, day after day, he blest ? 
The one, which from the cold damp ground, had 

raised 
His drooping head and bound with fingers fair 
His wound? which smoothed his pillow? which 

prescribed. 
In that propitious hour, the remedy 
Whose potent agency within his frame. 
Made his soul feel loath to leave its feeble house 
Of clay, that. caused the glow within his breast? 

Was it her graceful form and beauty rare ? 
Her dulcet voice that softly syllabled 
Sweet Bible stories, and sang in accents 



THE FLOWEK OF SHENAIN^DOAH. 71 

Toned divinely, choice psalmody, which had 
In Athol's hours of fevered sleeplessness lull'd 
His throbbing brain to rest ? or was it the power 
Of Daisy's pity, that in Athol's heart, 
Had softly struck the mute accord of 
Sympathy divine ? 

Such, in truth, it was ; 
For the compassion of his cherubim had 
In his heart enkindled the pure flame of 
Love : for gratitude begets love ; and when both 
Are happily in women's heart combined. 
What panacea -so potent to remove 
The anguish'd bosom's pain,, to raise the head 

weigh'd 
Down with cares, and solace give unto life's woes ? 

Athol, then, the more he saw the maid, became 
Enamored with her sprightly comeliness ; 
With her spirit beneficent, and with 
The beam celestial which sparkled brightly 



72 DAISY SWAI]^, 

In the light blue eyes of Daisy : for he saw 

The beam of truth in her heart illumed 

Her cheeks with virtue's flame. In her presence 

He would quite forget his past disaster. 

And seldom thought that he had peril'd death 

Upon the field of slaughter, so overjoyed 

Was he, that he felt he could in seas of 

Carnage wade, aye, a thousand dangers brave, 

To pin so fair a jewel to his heart. 

And keep the precious treasure there for life. 

So, thus, while the maid in Athol's bosom 
Was the only bhss ; the only vision that 
Beguiled his mind ; the sole angel who came 
To cheer him in death's dread hour : his treasure 
Rarest that moved his bosom with the throb 
Of fond affection. Daisy, herself, felt swayed 
By some resistless influence in his soul. 
'Twas the same power which she'd infused in his 

heart. 
That in her own rebounded, and there found 



THE FLOWER OF SHET^ANDOAH. 73 

Its sweet abiding place ; strange affinity 
That tied tlieir two souls with dearest amity : 
For the more he amended, the more she droop'd. 
Alternate gay and pensive were her looks. 
Her languishing mien evinced her heart was 
Fraught with love, which Athol saw and heard 

breathe 
In her tender sighs ; and knew her condolement 
Was the purest emblem of a constant mind ; 
That her modest sweetness showed her virgin 

soul : 
And that, although her tongue was then too coy 
To breathe the tender vow, yet her silence 
Was but the dumb rhetoric of her heart, 
More eloquent of love than her sweet tones could 

lisp. 
His fond gaze likewise made her looks obey 
Her passion's impulse, burning in her heart, 
So fervently ; as it summoned the blush, 
Which her chaste bosom wore, to carminate, 

As like a peach's rind, her modest cheeks. 

7 . 



74 DAISY SWAIj^. 

'Twas thus that her affection for Athol 
Her affliction became ; for, when he had 
Recovered to that normal state which makes 
Health laugh at death, she leaner grew, and 

proved, 
By her paUor and sigh spontaneous. 
The hidden pow'r which he exerted o'er her. 
To him, in short, a thousand nameless actions, 
Spoke the evidence of a tender wound 
In her breast. Thus did the dominant passion 
That sways the world entire, enchain the hearts 
Of both the rescued and the rescuer. 







CHAP TEE V/ 



One bright morn as the lovers near the cot 
Breathed forth their vows, Athol, in his own, took 
Daisy's hand, and pressed it tenderly ; drew 



76 DAISY SWAIN-, 

Her to his breast and sigh'd within her ear 

The ardent nature of his love. Pallid 

Spread her rosy cheeks. She trembled, and 'gainst 

Her restraint, hung down her head in silence. 

Athol, whose heart was fuU, stood mute awhile. 

He scarce knew what to say, and deeply sigh'd : 

But dared at length his passion to reveal. 

He told her that he much admired her from 

The time her eyes first on him gazed, and that 

He then adored her fondly, so much so, 

A king his bliss might envy ; that, if she were 

His own, a soldier's and a lover's soul 

She'd crown ; that when his term of service ended, 

He'd hail her as his future bride ; united, 

Blest with her, in bitter winds of winter. 

And in snow's incessant fall, in ev'ry 

Vernal hour he'd with her live forever. 

Her heart's true partner. 

Now, what a shock was 
That to one whose bosom was susceptible 



THE FLOWER OF SHENAIS^DOAH. 77 

And tender; soon her head reclined all 

Pensive, which betrayed that something undefined 

Was working in her mind. Some affliction 

That spoke her sadden'd thoughts, tho' mute her 

voice. 
In that still mood, she seem'd so like a bird 
Allured, pent up in a cage with her captor 
Near her, enamored, patiently gazing, 
And awaiting its dulcet strains to hear. 
As he then did the sanction of her smile. 
So, in brief time, from his panting heart, she 
Eaised her drooping head, and with her face 
Upturned, threw her radiant eyes, bedimm'd with 

tears. 
Full on his own. 

She told him that 'twere worse 
Than death from him to part ; that a prey she'd 
Be to separation's pain and sorrow ; 
That none could comfort her but him ; then said : 

" Alas ! when thou art gone, foul darkness will 

17* 



78 

Be seen wliere once tliy lightsome footstep shone." 
Then she hinted fears that, he now being well, 
Would forever leave her in affliction, 
And bade him, strenuously, to stay with her. 
Where peace and undivided love reposed. 

But when Athol heard her fear-fraught words, he 
Swore he'd never from his pUghted faith depart : 
That sacred was his word : his mind too pure 
And high : his heart too merciful and just ; 
In short, an honorable youth he was. 
And loath'd the very name of infamy : 
That naught within the wide world could seduce 
Him from her, from truth, nor rectitude. 
Then he told her that, although he'd suffer'd 
From an outward wound — a bloody gash, that 
He then suffer'd from an inward pang, 
A heart-bruise deep, which naught could heal save 

but 
Its kind : — " the tyrant god which thro' the world 



THE FLOWEE OF SHENANDOAH. 79 

Roams free, and robs its victims of their peace 
And liberty." 

Then Daisy looking up 
With aspect mild, all inexpressive grace. 
Her countenance beaming with approving smiles, 
Which showed that Athol had with tones un- 
daunted 
Sued her not in vain, gladly promised 
To commit her hand forever to his trust. 
Athol then upon the head of his betrothed 
Called Heaven's blessings down, and sealed his faith 
With kisses on her dimpling cheek ; gave her 
From vest pocket, his own portrait color'd. 
Which she kissed with ardOr sweet, and said; "ah! 
Thy much-loved image, Athol, in my heart shall 
Be enshrined, by friendship guarded until 
Life is gone, as I feel assured thou hast 
Indeed an upright heart, a fervent soul. 
And temper gen'rous — ^jewels which fame nor 
Gold can buy." 



80 DAISY SWAIN, 

So, when the sullen clouds of doubt 
Flit from her mind, hope's bright sunshine Daisy's 

thoughts 
Illumined and stamped its vignette bloom upon 
Her cheeks. With unmixed ardor in her heart 
She hailed the joyous day when hand in hand 
Together she would with her Athol walk 
On sunny paths, and rove in vernal meads. 
Where birds and bees and flowers the hght obey, 
And to their happy sights their silken plumes 
Disclose. For, then, no frowning clouds she 

thought 
Were in the sky, ominous of fortune's wrath. 
Would cause a tear of agony to start from 
Out her gladsome bosom ; that no lightning 
Would flash and 'strike the bHss from out their 

barque 
Of hope, while tossing to and fro on life's 
Tempestuous billow. 

'Twas then the noontide hour. 



THE FLOWER OF' SHENAITDOAH. 



81 



The fluid gold of light down from its throne 
Of blue began to sickly gleam upon ' ^ 

The mountain's slope, as Athol stood prepared 
Upon the cottage steps to take his leave. 
In tearful eyes, the old folks held him by 
The hands ; and much regretted that they were, 
So soon, deprived of their companion — 




82 



Their dear daughter's choice, — and welcomed him 

again, 
If saved while warring with his brethren 'gainst 
Traitors armed in his own country of birth. 
Told him, too, that if he'd fall defending 
His dear native land, they'd bless his name ; but 
Hoped that God would spare him. 

Then Daisy flung 
Her arms around his neck, and cHnging to him 
Prayed, as on he moved to go, that for the love 
Of God and her he'd soon again return. 
But, while Athol on the door-step stood wiping 
From his humid eyes, the parting tear, he saw 
The sunbeam from the casement faded fast. 
And heard afar deep-noised rumbling thunder ; 
Saw the distant light grow faint and sombre ; 
And, hov'ring in the west, that thick, dark clouds 
Announced a hostile sky ; that a storm was 
Gathering. Still his ardor was undaunted : 
He cared not for the thunder's angry voice, 



THE FLOWER OF SHENA^'DOAII. 8 

But wish'd to hasten thither on his journey. 
To report at Washington for duty. 

But just as he pronounced the farewell word 
" Adieu," unusual darkness o'er the face 
Of nature spread. A vivid flash lit up 
The gloom. On through the immeasurable void 




84 



Of air, the war of elements roared and made 
The welkin ring tremendously. — A flash — 
A rattle, — down burst clouds of drenching rain. — 
Fiercely howled the wind among the trees ; they 

groan'd — 
Strained heavily and rustled off their leafy pride : 
But a gust still more powerful wrenched from 
Its roots an aged oak which grew hard by. 
The crash, the old man startled to his feet. 
Quickly he ran to the window to see 
The damage done, when in a glaring sheet 
Of vivid hghtning which just then illumed 
The dark profound, his quick eye saw, along 
The hillside, a troop of mounted horsemen 
All drenched unto the skin, slowly wending 
Their way onward to'ards the cot. , 

Foremost in 
The van, a stately creature tower'd, bedecked 
Full proud in coat of grey all button'd up 
But somewhat faded ; for, its nap appeared 



THE FLOWER OF SHEI^-Al^DOAH. 87 

As if it had seen many dreary seasons. 

Armed he was from the saddle to his teeth 

With revolvers three, a sabre, carbine, 

And a dirk, showing what a monster of 

"War and human blood was he ; and the eye 

That fiercely rolled beneath the knitted brow 

Of this rough type of man, plainly showed 

He was both bloody and remorseless 

At his trade. His nag, likewise, looked mean, 

spare. 
Not half fed ; and its hide and harness was 
With mud and grease and lather much befouled. 

Soon at the cottage door the guerilla 
Pranced his jaded steed, and deigned to knock. 

The noise 
Of such a rap unusual startled all 
The inmates to their feet at once. Quickly 
The daughter to the door hastened, and with 
A curt'sy low and smile serene, welcomed 
From the fitful wind and rain, the stranger. 



The inmates all, save Atliol, looked amazed 
Upon his gaudy form, from the knee-top boots 
He wore, to his slouch hat by tassel girt. 
Then soon, kind Beuben's hberal hand took 
By the reins, the fellow's neighing palfrey, 
And tied it to a hickory post close by. 
As kindly, the matron spread before him 
A meal, of which he heartily ate, eyeing, 
In the meanwhile, the federal youth disguised, 
Whom he pierced, as 'twere intuitively. 

So, when the chief his appetite appeased. 
He hit upon a theme to drag to hght 
The truth he thought in Athol lay concealed. 
"Kind friends of peace," he said, "I humbly thank 
Tou. May your happy hves, unsullied 
Flow down the stream of time, free from care and 

pain. 
May good health your daily walks attend. 
And cheerfulness sit smihng on your brows." 
At this, all but Athol him their thanks retum'd. 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 89 

" Think not, my friends," lie said, " that I speak 

In this vein to curry favor. No, I'm 

Quite averse to flatt'ry, yet ne'er displease ; 

And have a soul too dignified to kneel 

And servile bend for selfish motives. These 

My unobtrusive nature never has ; 

For, truth I admire undisguised, and scorn 

Concealment." (Fixing his eyes on Athol.) 

" Honest ambition is my only pride, 

Which I hope to mark along with other 

VaHant heroes, firm, proud, and defiant. 

Who've joined the cause of right 'gainst usurp'd 

might. 
Contesting every inch of Southern soil 
Against the pilf'ring Yankees : those minions 
Of that perjured hypocrite who now sits 
Upon his abohtion throne, awing 
The vulgar North to his way of thought, while. 
We of the South brand him with contempt and 

hate. 

And spurn his mean authority. Tisn't 

7* 



00 DAISY SWAIN, 

The nature of the Southern heart to crouch 
Before a tyrant. What ! the pride and valor 
Of the chivaky cringe to an uncouth 
Abohtionist. What humihation ! 
All of us would rather see the fruitful South 
One vast wilderness. Aye, e'en suffer death. 
Extermination first, before we'd stoop 
To his yoke. Ko, the people South are bound 
As one huge bulwark of strength to defend 
Themselves to the last man against his sway ; 
Till freedom's banner, the stars and bars, shall 
Wave triumphantly o'er every State in 
The Confed'racy." 

Then Athol to his feet 
Arose and cast upon the rebel braggart 
A contemptuous sneer, and said with warmth : 

"Sir, 
The honor'd President elect whom you've 
Deprecated vilely, is one of 
The greatest men of modem times. Fate, once in 



THE FLOWER OF SHEJS'ANDOAH. 91 

A thousand years, scarce gives us such a man. 

The mental calibre that he's got 

Rarely springs from out the dross of earth, to show 

The world Heaven's model of a statesman. 

With such a giant intellect possess'd. 

He'd rise in any sphere of hfe and shine ; 

As the aids which humbler minds require he 

scorns. 
Being a ripe scholar, a sage, and wit, but 
No pedant ; no display he makes of what 
His mind contains. He's too retiring, meek, 
Timid, and, I may say, bashful, to parade 
His learning. Such modesty feeble minds 
May despise ; but it shows his profound sense, 
And proves he has a cultivated mind. 
Nor pomp of speech has he, the ignorant 
To dazzle, the weak dismay : his words are 
In the simplest garb arrayed, and full of 
Thoughts pregnant with truth and wisdom. 
Yet, sometimes, I'll admit, that when he feels 
In playful humor and an auspicious chance 



92 

Prompts its display, he'll tell a good joke ; 
But, otherwise, he's a man of feeling ; 
His heart is full of pity for his kind ; 
So tender at times that his sympathies 
Towards the human race are so great, they cause 
His bosom pain ; and what you call tyranny. 
Is nothing more than his firmness with which 
He guides the Senate and rules the States. In 

short," 
Continued Athol, " his name is cherished 
In ev*ry loyal heart, who, at his voice 
Commanding them, pour out their blood and 

treasure 
In streams abundant, with which triumphant yet 
He'd crush the lawless spirits now rampant 
In the trait'rous South ; and I, as one, have. 
At the just call of his great mind, resigned 
Both health and ease, and will lay down my life 
Itself an hostage on the bloody field. 
To disenthrall the enslaved, and liberate 
The free from the fangs of your cruel chief. 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 93 

Who, both white and black, now holds in 

bondage. 
Ruling and ruining them remorselessly." 

Indignant wrath then burned in Athol's blood. 
He dared, scoffingly, his manly spirit 
To unfold, and, unrestrained, continued : 
" But we'll yet lower the lofty pride of 
That pusillanimous puke, and drive him 
To the verge of hell, where fiery dragons 
Him will sting to death, ere his guilty soul 
Falls in the flames, to writhe in tortures there 
Forever with the damn'd, for urging, with 
His barb'rous will, millions to fell slaughter." 

This roiled the rebel's temper. He, angry. 
Made with his clench'd fist a thrust at Athol, 
Who dext'rously warded off the blow ; 
Then to the door ran, with mouth all foaming 
With rage, and shouted to his armed band, 
"Foes— 



94 DAISY SWAIN, 

Enemy — hither hasten — quick." Soon they 
The house surrounded, hooted, halloo'd, rushed 
Through the door, and hke hungry tigers, pounc'd 
Quite furious on their prey. 

Then all within 
The cot was dire confusion. Bitterly 
The mother and the daughter wailed. Morose, 
The guerilla chief jerked the old man up 
Off his knees, and " villain, traitor," term'd him. 
While with abject mien and supplication low, 
Reuben tried to melt the chieftain's caUous heart, 
And bade him listen ere he claim'd him : raised 
His eyes up heav'nward, and told him he was 
Innocent : implored his freedom to restore. 
While, meantime, Daisy wrung her hands with 

anguish : 
In mercy lifted up her voice on high : 
Bent her knees, and murmuring, bade him spare 
Her father's hoary head : to be merciful 
And just for the sake of her dear mother, 



THE FLOWER OF SHENAI^DOAH. 



95 



Stricken down witli age, wlio, if of her spouse 
Bereft, wouldn't L".ve to see the morrow's Hght, 
As God would call her from life's checquered 

scenes. 
" Thou hast the power to wound or heal, to bHght 
Or bless :" but all was dead and still about 
The chieftain's heart — too callous and to all 
The finer feelings cold. Nor even could 




96 DAISY SWAIN. 

The nervous tremor of her hands, that clasp'd 
His knees, vibrate soft pity to his heart. 
Nor her sighs, nor tears, nor accents tender. 
Nor e'en the melting sweetness of her eyes. 
Nor their fascinating gaze, from which the heart 
Of one less hard would sure destruction found. 
All her pleadings were, alas ! in vain ; as 
The bold ruffians, in the remnant of the storm. 
Quickly bore their captives from the vale, and 

thrust 
Them in a loathsome dungeon South. 




CHAPTER VI. 

^he Affliction of Baistj— ^ho Boath of both hejj 
;^at|ent$. 



Down beside her senseless mother Daisy 

Knelt, and loudly called to Heaven for justice ; 

Pour'd forth in fervent pray'r that mercy yet 

Divine might smooth the captives' way — vain hope. 
9 



98 DAISY SWAIN, 

Bitterly, all that long and dreary night, 

She wept her father's and her lover's hapless fates ; 

And when the next day serenely dawn'd, 

It brought unto her mind no smiling light, 

For, joyless all the hve-long day, she thought 

Of them o'erwhelm'd by tyranny : 

Knelt, with her heart o'ercharged with woe, and 

pray'd 
The right'ous soon would triumph o'er and sink. 
To fathomless depths, their stern oppressors down ; 
Hop'd that they'd by divine vengeance be pursued ; 
That the wrath of Heaven v/ould upon them 
Hurl its thunderbolts and doom their overthrow ; 
"Wish'd her aged father would again be 
Free as the rolling cloud, enjoying once more 
The blessings of hberty ; and that the wind 
From heaven, unconfined, would soon play round 
Her lover's brow, to dare again the foe. 
Till vict'ry crown'd his arms, and conquest, with 
Eenown, his freedom brought. For she knew her 
Athol's noble heart was far too valiant 



THE FLOWEE OF SHEl^ANDOAH. 99 

To shrink from treason-tainted foes ; aye scorn'd 
At danger ; could hear taunts and wear his chains 
In fetter'd reahns like a Christian martyr. 

But such hopes her mother's mind rehef denied : 
Soon reason fled her fever'd brain ; for when 
By her injurious foes borne down, faint she 
Lay outstretched, pale nigh breathless, upon 
A bed of anguish. 

Many nights Daisy 
Watch'd with ghstening eye around her couch ; 
And heard, in her mother's stifling moans, death, 
In fullness of glee, with bony hands twang'd 
At her heart-strings, the solemn tones which tell 
Where the broken in spirit shall go. Yes, 
The tale is told : hopeless of recovery 
Was her state ; for soon her weakened lungs closed 
Their spongy cells against the air of life. 
A sigh, a gasp, a rattle in her throat : 
Her fitful struggles ceased, and all was still. 



100 DAISY swahs-, 

Her spirit fled its earthly confinement, 
And soared far beyond life's narrow bounds. 

If ever innocence knew distress 'twas when 
Daisy, bending o'er her dying parent, 
Heard her last breath, and felt her heart was reft 
Of life's warm beat. In her deep despair she 
Trembling knelt beside her deceased mother ; 
And from her weeping eyes she pour'd upon 
Her cold remains many fond, fihal tears. 
Then she raised her sorrowing head on high, 
And cried aloud : " To thee. Great God above, let 
My imploring voice ascend. O Lord of 
Mercy ! hear my prayer. Thou hast the power 
To raise or quell the storm. The strugghng worm 
Thou canst protect. Then, O Lord of Hosts! 

deign 
To dispel the black'ning gloom which now 

o'ershades 
The future of a helpless orphan just 
Deprived of fond maternal care. Her voice 



THE FLOWEE OF SHENANDOAH. 101 

That once impressed celestial precepts on 

My heart, is hush'd in death. Nor does my father 

Hear his suppliant child beseeching Thy 

Benign protection : for, far from me, alas ! 

He has been cruelly torn, and futile have, 

I fear, his claims for mercy been ; unfelt 

On apathetic hearts his pleading soft : 

Still hearing naught but insults vile, has sank 

Beneath oppression's weight ; and p'rhaps his 

soul 
Has from its earthly cell been disencumbered. 
And upward wing'd its way to heaven for peace, 
Leaving me an orphan here forlorn, the sole 
Survivor of the wreck." 

Too true, alas ! 

Was her prediction : for, unhappily, 

In mouldy dungeon vilely smear'd with 

Damps infectious, her father, hopeless, sleepless. 

Many midnight hours, quickly pined beneath 

His darksome prison roof ; and while he droop'd 
9* 



102 



DAISY SWAIN^, 



And lonely breath'd, despairing of each daylight's 

dawn, 
He thought that safe, secure, tho' far away. 
All whom he loved remained in sunshine bright. 

He saw his white-washed cot, and the tall trees 
Which rose above it proudly, tinted with 
The beam. Heard the gurgling brook meandering 




THE FLOWEE OF SHENAI^DOAH. 103 

Past ; and fancied, in its twirling eddies, 
That lie saw the trout disport : his daughter, 
Too, quite fair ; serene as mild mid-noon in 
Mayday, sitting on its green bank twining 
A wreath of flow'rets gay with which to crown 
Her lover's honored brow, in token of 
The laurel he might wear. 

But yet, he knew. 
The Fed'ral then with circhng arms did not 
Her slender bosom twine, as, like himself, he pined 
In dungeon deep, in sad captivity. 
Inly mourning the loss of her whom his soul 
Loved best on earth. 

Then forebodings sad soon 
Banish'd from his mind the remember'd joys 
That thronged upon his soul. He feared and wept 
To think that both his wife and child suffered : 
Yet still at intervals he felt consolement 
In the thought that they unshared his woes. 
Hoped 



104 



DAISY SWAITT, 



And prayed tliat no dire ills hung o'er their heads, 
And that his wife and lovely daughter solely 
Mourn'd his loss of fondness. This 'twas that 

cheer'd 
Him ; for a degree of bliss he felt in 
His heart that he might see them soon again. 
'Twas but a mock'ry of joy, as forced was 
The glow ; ghastly the smUe ; his haggard cheeks 




THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 



105 



And hollow eyes that hope destroyed. For, fast 
He sank : and, on the self-same night his wife's 
Christian spirit fled into eternity, 
Death freed Eeuben from his clanking chains. 




CHAPTEE VII. 

^he if unet|al of !t£)ai$\}'$ iiotheti — $he ^ttiange "^isitoji. 

The decease of Daisy's mother caused among 

The neighbors of the vale a hoHday 

Of grief. Promptly, the solemn call of death 

Brought them to the cot where they found Daisy, 

With a heavy load in her once lightsome heart, 

Sadly bending her lithe form gently o'er 

The unconscious relic of her parent. 

As she her drooping head raised up to greet 
Them, they saw how changed was the gay flower. 
How withered in its charms ; how doleful, too, 
Was her low voice that once rang through the 

meads 
As cheer'ly as the morning bird's : whilst she. 
With tearful eyes, the tale to them rehearsed 



THE FLO WEE OF SHENANDOAH. 107 

How of father, mother, lover, robbed by 
A band of ruthless foes, who scorned to Hsten 
To her voice that sued for mercy, but mock'd 
Her heart so rent and sorely vexed with their 
Injustice. 

Some with their indignant tongues 
Branded them with the foul names of scoundrel, 
Churls, and tyrants cruel ; whilst others 'mong 
The band of mourners who had their feehngs 
Touched, unrestrainedly, their sister streams 
Of pity commingled with those of Daisy. 

Then, as with one voice, they all together 
Offered her sweet friendship's balm to solace 
The repining sorrow that preyed upon 
Her heart. 

She sigh'd and thank'd them as they all 
Around her mother's bier in solemn pray'r 
Familiar knelt : and when the funeral rite, 



108 DAISY SWAIN, 

Impromptued from the lips of a rough peasant. 
Was ended, silently and slow the corpse 
Was borne along a wild landscape and laid, 
Down in its narrow bed, dug in a mound 
Which nature made. 

There, at her mother's shrine, 
'Neath a cypress, whose sombre branches waved 
With sympathetic sorrow o'er the rude slab. 
Which mark'd her earthly resting place, Daisy, 
In the evening starhght, many a silent hour 
Would sit and watch the clouds of autumn roll, 
And teU to the passing winds in broken sighs. 
The death of father, mother, and the loss 
Of love and friendship, that undiminished 
Yet burn'd in her lamp of hope, fed by the beam 
Of faith and truth's undoubted ray. 

Yet, at times, 
She feared her own death would, ere long, com- 
plete 



THE FLOWER OF SHEKANDOAH. 109 

The scene ; for, in her breast she felt a cipher 
Writ that soon her earthly form she'd yield up 
To the God of nature, to undergo 
Creation's change : as the bhghting grief 
In her heart she felt, was too deep for the rose 
On her cheek to re-blossom more. 

"But why 

Eegret," she said, " Heaven may yet send me 

A cup of sweet relief, consecrated 

By faith, to guide my inexperienced youth 

Thro' Hfe's thorny ways. Does not the author 

Of life and death dispense with righteous hands 

To his poor creatures, bliss or pain, as best 

Befits them ? Surely, then, I should my lot 

Endure without repining : for metals 

Are with red heat refined and freed from dross. 

In affliction's burning furnace our souls 

Are purified ; and if we can resist 

Temptations, which are but the devil's tricks 

To wean us from the Lord, why, surely, futile 
10 



110 DAISY SWAITf, 

Then must be ev'ry allming gnise 
The tempter wears to snare us from the path 
Of virtue, and blot out the good resolves 
That love for the All-powerful once hath 
Fixed within the heart. 

In her breast these truths 
She recorded, then from her pale hands raised 
Her head and wander'd to the blest retreat, 
The chosen spot of love ; for Athol's nature 
At her heart-strings yet unalt'rable play'd. 

" Ah ! here alas ! how often have our hearts 
With mutual endearment entwined, our hands 
United fondly. O hapless object 
Now of my distress, thou art, perchance, long 
Since number'd with the good. Aye, mute thy 

tongue 
That softly sung of love. Yet, p'rhaps, thou Hv'st in 
Prison languishing, but wearing out thy chains 
"With hope and fortitude. Ah ! Athol dear, 



THE FLOWER OF SHEISTANDOAH. Ill 

Tho' mountains and wide-spreading plains divide 
Us, still I boast a priv'lege, a dear one : 
Fancy wafts me to thy arms. Yet, oh ! if thou 
Wert here, how much lighter would my burdens be.'' 
Such were the thoughts sad Daisy spoke, while 

gazing 
O'er the fair scenes of soft dehght, where 
At the sequester'd spot she Hnger'd till 
The evening's breeze in fitful gusts began 
To moan among the leaves, and mountain clouds 
Around the place a dusky shade diffused. 
Thus night being close at hand, dispelled from 
Her mind the train of placid thoughts and warn'd 
Her hence. 

Soon upon the breeze she heard the tramp 
Of horse — affright'd ran — ^reach'd the cot — turn'd 

round. 
And saw a shadowy form hard by, hovering 
Near. Quick the door she shut ; but soon a rap 
Vibrated on her startled ear. Trembling, 



112 DAISY SWAIIS-, 

She thro' the window gazed alarmed, and thought 
She saw the chieftain returned back to burn 
The cot, as twihght shadows veil'd the man. 
And made his garb appear hke gray. 

Now listen 
To her mind by prudence temper'd, her caution 
Spoke with earnest warmth. " Who in evening's 

mantle 
Sombre wrapt comes here ?" " A friend," was the 

response. 
" A friend, forsooth ! at such an hour I Perchance 
A foe, as none but the intrusive would 
Invade a lonely maiden's sanctuary : 
None but the designing prowl about in 
Gloomy shades of night, dark deeds to do. 
In order that their evil work may the 
Mortal eye elude, and you seemed fashioned 
For no good intent." 

" Call not suspicion 
To your mind, lone maid ; I'm not on mischief 



THE FLOWEE OF SHENANDOAH. 



113 



Bound. Heaven is my witness. My mission 
Is a holy one, and needs precaution. 
To guard against impending ills I must 
Shun the cheerful beam of day, and wander 
Only when the night shrouds the world in gloom. 
The letter which I carry in my vest 




'^^V^-^ -^ 



^^'^-v.;:. 



114 



Declares the object of my visit, and will, 

Pm sure, remove your doubts : it's from Athol." 

When she heard the gentle name of Athol, 
She felt conscious that the stranger's ends were 
Right ; and without further parley bade him 
Enter. Then he proffer'd her the letter. 
Which she gladly took, and turn'd it round and 

round. 
Her bosom heaved convulsed with deep emotion. 
The sudden chiU of fear quit her blood, 
And stay'd the with'ring grief that blanch'd her 

cheeks 
With paly dye, and sooth'd her thorny pains. 

Then while Daisy, in the dim twilight, cast 
A joyous look upon its superscription, 
The stranger saw how beauteous was the maid. 
How serenely fair in ev'ry feature. 
Then, with the light of new-born hope, she from 
The folded letter raised her languid eyes. 



THE FLOWER OF SHEl^TAl^DOAH. 115 

And said : " Tho' the lines seem to have been 

penn'd 
By a trembling hand, yet I can trace in 
Them the ornate style of dear Athol ; and may 
Fate charter freedom's blessings to the brave 
Who brought them. May ev'ry adversity 
Give him renew'd courage, till his name shall 
Be upon the rolls of fame enshrined, and 
Honors, like his days, brighten full of years." 
The stranger bow'd his grateful thanks. 

" How was 
Dear Athol when you saw him last," she said. 
" In health and hope quite buoyant ; for, to me, 
His confidant, he often speaks of you 
As being far above all mortal stars 
That shine. My praises, too, with his can now 
Be joined." Concluding which, Daisy look'd 

straight 
At the stranger, and caught the quick glance of 
His eye, but in it saw he was sincere : 



116 DAISY SWAIN, 

Then, gently curtseyed at tlie flatt'ring words 
Which he had spoken. 

"Most loth am I, fair maid, 
To bid you now farewell ; but the pale star 
Of eve shoots down its lustre, and ghame might 
Tinge your cheeks if here I tarried longer." 
" O, sir," she said, " my tongue hath not power 
Of words to tell the emotions that now 
I feel : But give Athol this token of 
My love, and murmur in his ear these vows 
Of mine : Tell him that, ' so long as time shall 
Last, his image wiU remain and still be 
Cherish'd at my faithful heart, and that, Hke 
The stream near which he's now encamp'd, my 

love 
For him is deep and pure.' " 

Delighted with 
The kindly, task enjoined, the courier 
Promised faithfully her commands he would 



THE FLOWEE OF SHENANDOAH. 117 

Obey. Then botli their hands in friendship's grasp 
Were soon combined. 

Hastily forth he salhed, 
And nimbly mounted on his roan steed, 
Which restlessly on the emerald sward paw'd 
The deep green grass. " Adieu," he said. " Good 

bye" 
" And may kind Providence guard you safely 
On your way," was her response. Then quickly, 
The horseman and his charger, to her sight 
Were lost, in the gloom of night enshrouded deeply. 



CHAPTEE VIII. 

J^thol's Letter! to !t?)ai$y — $he (§uit$ hej| Iti^lace of 

Bitjth — ;i^et| $ear|ch ot J^thol — !^et| !ti)e$paij| — 

^he Loijal !t?ea$ant$ — ^he ^uei|iUa$ — 

^he Bujjning l$ni — B$ "J^ietims. 

In the calm silence of that evening hour, 
As Daisy sat musing o'er the joyful news 
Which Athol's letter might contain ; the moon, 
Hastening from her eastern bowers, full flushed 
Arose and brightly shone o'er all the vale ; 
Glanced radiantly a trembling ray of light 
Upon the cottage window. 

A welcome boon 
Was the refulgent beam to Daisy : 
For, soon with cheeks by joy's warm glow suffused, 
She fondly pressed the letter to her lips. 
And, then, by love's pure torch read these words : 



THE FLOWEE OF SHENAJ^DOAH. 119 

" In the field, near Philomont, Virginia, 

"August 23, 18G2. 
" Deae Daisy : — 

" Although tyrant rapine hath 
Keffc me from thee, nor time, nor distance, nor 
The hard severities which fate compels 
Me to endure, hath blurr'd the impressions 
Which thy dear love hath made upon my heart. 
For when my mind on thy fond image dwells. 
Cheerfully I bear my aches and pains and 
Meet the dull monotonies of camp Ufe. 
Amidst all the hardships incident 
To a soldier, and my perils on the field, 
The heart-melting ecstasy still burns 
In my breast, that I shall soon again see 
Her whom my fond heart passionately adores. 
Be then thyself thus warm with hope : for, in 
Grief or absence. Heaven's just hand weighs well 
The lot of human life. Neglect no means 
Which may be best to mitigate your pains ; 
And when this inhuman conflict's o'er 



120 DAISY SWAIN, 

And the last battle shall have been fought and 

won, 
And death thro' ev'ry danger hath my life 
Preserved, the black'ning clouds which now veil 

our 
Hopes will have cleared away and then we'll bask. 
Unrestrained, in the sunshine of love, till 
Death puts an end to all our earthly joys. 

" But God alone knows when the feast of car- 
nage 
Will be o'er, as the giant North, firm in 
Her strength and lavish with abundant means. 
Still pours forth, in myriads strong, new heirs 
To gloiy. Therefore, blood must yet be bought 
With blood ; for' unavailing thus far hath 
Proved the threats of laws and force of aims 
To quell the civil hate and strife. Euin 
Yet rolls its sweeping tide of misery along 
Virginia's blood-stained fields, where, mingling 
Their lamentations with the woundcds' groans. 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 121 

Houseless are many old and young, besides 
How much of woe unseen, how much untold. 

" Even while I pen these lines, the news hath 
Reached me that the self-same subtle fiend who 
Has been the cause of all your wrongs, now ' 
Leads a ruffian guerilla gang through 
The gorges of the Blue Ridge, to forage 
In the plains of ill-fated Maryland ; 
To steal horses, pasturing herds, and gi'ain, 
From the husbandmen : and p'rhaps, as they 

through 
The Shenandoah pass, the marauders 
Will pillage, bui-n, and make your rich valley 
One devastated waste. But rest assur'd 
That all their agencies of hell will not 
Our vigilance oppose. We now sleep upon 
Our arms, ready at a moment's warning 
To rise combined as one to check their course. 

" But if the lurking rebel should evade 

Our watchfulness, in friendly guise he may 
11 



123 DAISY SWAIl^, 

In all his pompous pride come to the cot 
Again, and evermore darken the light 
That beams in thine eyes so blue. Consequently, 
Forego no merit of good intent. 
But rather seek safety in flight : as 'tis 
Always best to fly when arm'd dangers threaten 
Unarm'd innocence. Therefore, be on your guard : 
The rest I'll leave to your own sagacious heart. 

" Athol." 

" May bhss from heav'n around thee dwell. To 
see 
Thee soon, dear Athol, I'll try. Aye, even 
Before the glowing sun to-morrow doth 
Shine in the meridian, I will be on 
My lonesome way. Then quick, O smiHng morn 
Awake, that I may go in search of him who'll 
Find my heart as firm, as pure and holy 
As his own. But if I should find him not — " 
Here awhile she paused — then said : " Why 
then I'U 



THE FLOWER OF SHET^ANDOAH. 123 




Weep him dead." Just tlien a fleeting cloud roll'd 
Athwart the moon, and wrapt both her and earth 
In the opake shroud of night. 



Then sleep, with 
Her bland Morphean folds, her hearvj eyes soon 
Sealed in soft repose, where, deep in dreamland's 
Magic bowers, she lay unconscious but a spell, 



124 DAISY SWAIN. 

For broken was her rest, which made the night 
So long and irksome seem, that soon she from 
Her restless couch arose, hsten'd, but heard 
No sound save the sigh of the low breeze. 
Then casting up an anxious eye toward 
The orb-bespangled crown of night, she saw 
The paly lustre of the morning star 
Faded languidly before the gleam of 
Breaking day, which, afar upon the peaks 
Of the high distant hills, shone trembhngly. 

Then in her satchel dainties few she pacFd 
For hfe's support, and cheering succour by 
The way, where'er she'd shape her course, o'er hiii, 
Thro' grove, down dale. But yet, at first, too weak 
Her resolution seem'd to quit her place 
Of birth, and where her parent lay 
In rude grave : for alone to leave the grave 
Neglected, would evince no longer love 
Nor filial duty. Thus was her mind sway'd 
By the fond pow'r of attachment. 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 125 

At length 
Reason came to her aid. Loose purpose might 
Lead to hfe's disgrace, and to linger there 
Was to be undone. She shudder'd at the thought, 
And said, she'd put her trust in Him who grants 
Or takes away ; would go wherever fate 
Or fortune her might waft ; and then, with fixed 
Eesolve, forth in the noontide beam she went 
Where her dear mother's dust reposed, and there 

pluck' d 
Off the grave a reed that trembling grew : 
Then turn'd her fair face to'ards her childhood's 

home 
She loved, and casting one last look upon 
Her mother's blest abode, she, weeping, dash'd . 
Into a wood. 

There her startled eyes peer'd 

Bound and round. Thick incumbent shadows 

scowl'd 

About her. Ev'ry now and then she fear'd 
11* 



126 



DAISY SWAIN 




Some beast of prey would pounce upon and eat 
Her. But on she rov'd o'er plains and forded 
Unknown floods. Her bed sear'd leaves of 

autumn ; 
Her piUow some bleak rock. Nor fear then 

blanch'd 
Her care-worn cheeks ; for the first tremor long 
Since vanish'd from her breast. Fortitude 



THE FLOWER OF SHENAISDOAH. 127 

All her power of endurance had summon'd, 
And arm'd her with fix'd resolution : 
With which she heeded not the howling of 
The tempest, the lightning's vivid glare, 

Nor the peahng thunder's crash. 

» 

Yet one day. 
As th© sun declined, she, weary, languid, 
Faint, within a silent shelter'd spot sat 
Veil'd in gloom, and there of hope bereft, sigh'd 
And said : " Alas ! nothing but thorns my way 
Beset. Want, woe, and strife my pilgrimage 
Doth vex. Fruitless my search hath been. Way- 
ward 
Still my destiny ; for it seems Heaven doth 
Deny me the expected joy to heal 
The gnawing smarts which my misfortunes bring. 
Then if I'm doom'd to die, why not here in 
This wild wood ; for my wearied soul I feel 
Wants to be enchain'd no longer down to earth. 
But yearns to soar to the blest abode where 



128 DAISY SWAI]^, 

Shines yon bright and happy star. 

Gazing upward, 
Her ejes then caught a Hght gleaming dimly 

through 
The umbrage of the wood. Both hope and fear 
Soon took the place of her desj^air. She knew 
Not whether friend or foe resided whence 
The glimmer faintly shone ; yet something innate 
Panted at her heart that a lone maid would 
There be welcom'd, and soon the spot she reached; 
Found to her great joy, the light proceeded 
From a peasant's humble habitation. 

She knock'd the door. The panel gave the 

sound. 
A female voice within demanded, " Who 
Is there?" "One whom the winds blow fierce 

about ; 
A poor exile who wanders far and wide, 
Houseless, friendless, and forlorn," said Daisy. 



THE FLOWER OF SHETq'Aiq^DOAH. 

The last word scarcely feU from her lips ere 
The door wide open on its hinges swung. . 

Tenderly they mark'd her mournful mein. 
And saw too well her sunken eyes exprest 
The haggard sign that deep corroding care 



129 




Was eating up her mind : how faint she was 
From hunger and her toilsome journeyings. 



But soon they from their homely board bestow'd 
On Daisy choicest fare — the gen'rous mite 



130 DAISY SW Alls'. 

Unask'd ; for, tlio' scanty was the portion 
Nature gave to them, yet they spared not when 
The hungry craved, the houseless needed shelter ; 
For they good-natured were, if not refined 
With the gloss of worldly worth. Charity 
Comes from the soul : its promptings are divine ; 
This Daisy knew, and estimated rightly 
Their gen'rous hearts by what their hands had 
given. 

All amazed they listen'd to the story 
Of her woes, and felt indignant at the deeds 
The cruel rebel done, and him denounc'd 
A brute. Then she told them that 'twas fear 
Which made her leave her native home, and 

love. 
That sadden'd all her thoughts, to wander so 
With beating heart and eager hopes to find 
Her lover youth, a soldier brave, who gloried 
To be foremost in the fight ; and tho' in 
Many an adverse battle tried, yet smiled 



THE FLOWEE OF SHENAIS'DOAH. 131 

On dangers past, and lived the open foe 
Of traitors to their country. 

Then she from 
Her bosom Athol's vignette drew. They gazed 
Admiringly upon his handsome face ; 
But quickly alternating their dehght, 
With much surprise they said : 

" Alas ! not long since 
A squad of Fed'ral soldiers, arm'd with weapons 
Of death, came down yonder mountain's steep, 
Singing songs of freedom and strains of love. 
Their leader's features strong resemblance bore 
Unto this likeness, but more swarthy 
His complexion seemed ; but this may have been 
Caused by his exposure to the scorching sun. 
Nor were his cheeks so round and full ; still. 
This can be attributed to his love 
And distant thoughts of you ; but his hair, like 
This, was black as a raven's wing." 



132 DAISY swArsr, 

"Then fright, 
Unknown before, seized our hearts, for 'twas 
The first time that our wond'ring eyes ere saw 
Men dressed up in clothes fantastic. " Fear not," 
The leader said, "we are your friends : ours is 
No hostile banner : it waves for freedom. 
Law, and order, not for spohation : 
And on many a hard-fought field against 
The foe it has been reared. Therefore be not 
Alarmed ; your hves are safe : no invaders 
Now your quiet retreat explore." 

" Thus he spoke. 
Soft as the accents of a child, and yet, 
As he turned round to face his men, I thought 
I saw an insidious smile play round his mouth ; 
Still we *sposed they were sincere, that men train'd 
Up to mortal combat, and who'd achieved 
Heroic deeds whilst sternly battling with 
Frantic hordes of lawless foes, surely would 
Not stoop their honors to defame and blight 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH, 133 

The laurels they so nobly earned, to hurt 

The harmless and injure the confiding. 

But, alas ! faithless were those friends : they 

proved 
Themselves our greatest enemies ; for when 
We gave them all the food and drink they 

needed ; 
In short, to ev'ry one impartially 
Our gen'rous care extended ; they, after 
Partaking of our hospitality. 
Stole from the plow my husband's oxen : took 
My best two milch cows, then shot our poultry ; 
And carried on their depredations till 
Nearly all the means with which we life 
Supported, they knavishly purloined. 

" But mark, this is not all : the knaves added 

Insult to injury ; for when we ask'd 

Payment for the chattels which they'd stolen, 

Harsh and rude the wretches laugh'd, and drove 

Before them our sheep, horses, hogs, and cattle : 
12 



134 DAISY SWAIN 



Ev'n now the thankless and irreverent tongues 
Of the audacious roughs ring in my ears." 

" Can aught in human nature be less kind ? 
Hard it is indeed to bear such wrongs," said 

Daisy, 
" Yet none the less, my friends, have they, I find. 
Subdued the gen'rous feelings of your hearts. 
BoTint'ous strangers, now farewell Quick must I 
Pursue my way, to resolve whatever 
Fate decrees me." 

Just then appalling sounds 
Of horror wild arose upon her ears. " Death 
To foes : captivity to traitors : slaughter 
And'slav'ry yet shall triumph." Daisy shrank 
With fright, and cold sweat beaded on her brow. 

Soon the same guerillas bold, with torches 
In their hands, and with augmented force 'proach'd 
her. 



THE FLOWER OF SHETiTANDOAH. 135 




She gave a piercing shriek and fainting fell 
To earth. " A female spy," the rnffians cried, 
Then looking down they thought the damsel dead, 
And raised her prostrate form up from the ground, 
And bore her to a darksome glade hard by the hut. 



Then back they to the cot their hasty steps 
Retraced. Their presence to the old folks' hearts 



136 



Wild terrors brought. Quick, the peasant pale with 
Horror leaped from his bed and on his knees 
Begg'd the rebels to spare the helpless lives of 
Both himself and wife. 

" Yes, we shall," they cried, 
" If you own our sway, our cause defend, and leave 
This place, wherein a moment since we saw 
You aid and comfort give unto a foe." 

But the peasant scom'd to quit his home, and 
said : 
" His constancy to his country was due, 
And that he*d rather die than sell his birthright 
To those who fought to oppress and conquered 
To enslave." 

This roused the rebels' ire. They 
Struck, then kick'd their kneeling foe. For mercy 
Pray'd the wife. But her tears nor lamentations 
Could melt their stony hearts. Soon the cot 



THE FLOWEK OF SHEIfANDOAH. 137 

In burning ruins blazed. Writhing bands rose 
Up amid the sheeted flames imploring 
The avenging angel down to hurl 
Red bolts of wrath upon and strike the hearts 
Of the inhuman wretches dead with fright. 
While amid their last screams of agony 
Were heard, "We treason hate, and traitors scorn; 
True to the Union die — ^loyal to the last." 
12* 



CHAPTER IX. 

ltj)ai$tj a (^apilve — ^he Bivouac — !)^ai$y'$ )l^oom. 

Not till their victims' charr'd remains exhaled, 
Through murky wreaths of smoke, a pestilence 
Most baleful, did the rebels quit the hut 
In search of injured Daisy, whom they found 
Much convulsed and with all her sense nigh fled. 

Through dark desert ways and rugged paths 
they, 
Unmindful of her piteous cries, her sobs, 
Her plaints and bitter wailings, brought her to 
A cavern deep, scoop'd out between two hills. 
And laid her in a dark recess wherein 
Her fate should be determin'd by their chief, 
"Who'd not, as yet return'd. 

So, round a blazing fire, 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 139 




The murd'ring crew caroused. Some the weed 

fum'd. 
Some sang ribald songs by turns and smutty jokes 
Got off, whilst others quaffed and pass'd around 
A vile inebriant distillation. 



Drink, comrades, drink," more loquacious than 



140 DAISY SWAIN, 

The rest, cried one. " Drain your canteens to tlie 

dregs. 
'Tis the most potent of all drinks, to rouse 
Our sluggish blood to life and fortify 
Us 'gainst dangerous night damps. Besides, it is 
Our chieftain's birthday night. Then let us all 
Be merry, jocund, gay, and laugh at folly 
As it flies on pleasure's wing. For, why should 
We work our own annoy, when now we have 
A chance to pass a lucid interval 
From a life attended with so many 
Dangers ? True, to lead this wild course has been 
Our own choice ; or, rather, we were aU forced 
Into it by the roving propensities 
Of our natures, and ungovernable wills 
That could not bear restraints, nor drudgeries, 
Nor the enervating dull routines of 
The regular soldier. No, my comrades ; among 
These hills we are free to do what we please. 
Here we can and do despise the outer world. 
Where glaring vice and luxury prevail ; 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 141 

Where laws are made most stringently to force 
City villains into decency. 
But here, full of adventurous love, among 
These mountain passes, we simply practise 
The ancient virtues of our ancestors, 
With a valiant chief whose freeborn soul nought 
Can turn from perilous ways; aye, one who spurns 
The niggard Yankees* selfish yoke and hates 
Their clannish, over-jealous natures. Still, 
Sometimes when he's not aware, I notice 
That his high-toned spirits are much dejected. 
So much so, in fact, he seems to struggle 
Against some opposing fate, the cause of 
Which I opine I know. So, if you'll cease 
Your drowsy murmurs, and open your ears, 
I'll breathe into them, the sad incident 
Of his Hfe which yet preys upon his mind. 

"Two years have scarce elapsed since he was 
smitten 
With the peerless charms of a Yankee maiden 



142 



Whose father, a Puritan bom and bred, 
Lavish'd on her with unsparing hands, 
The wealth he'd gain'd running niggers from 
Africa into the Isle of Cuba, 
Hoping, thereby, that his gifts of fortune. 
Along with her accomplishments, would add 
Great dignity to his high lineage ; 
Grace the pious stock from which she sprang. 
And draw around her swarms of wealthy suitors." 

" Our noble chief, a Virginian by birth, 
"Was always at her father's house a welcome guest ; 
For he thither often went to interchange 
With her father mutual thoughts concerning 
Their clandestine interests in the slave trade. 
So, whilst in social converse, the father learnt 
That Agar was descended from one of the 
Eldest and most distinguished families 
Of old Virginia. Then coupling this news 
With the proud notions of himself, he saw 
That such high blood, with wealth united, would 



THE FLO WEE OF SHEI^ANDOAH. 143 

Confer mucli honor on his house, and offer'd 

Agar his daughter's hand in marriage, 

With vested rights in estates as portion 

Of her marriage dower. Agar consented, 

And promised to solemnize the nuptials 

When he'd returned from Paris, where he'd gone • 

Some months before the war broke out. 

But in 
That gay city, where vice and shame strut round 
Enrob'd in meek-sainted guise, wine and women 
Soon his youthful bosom fired. Held spell-bound 
By the charming witch'ries of the gay lorettes, 
Who hold their bacchanals at the Chateaux 
Des Fleurs and Mabille, soon his unthinkin j 
And blind reason brought him down deep into 
The gulf of dissipation, which soon made 
Him needy ; for, amid his orgies, he thought 
Not of the ruin he was bringing 
On himself, but, to relieve his pressing wants, 
Continued to make frequent demands 



144 DAISY SWAIISr, 

For means from her father, and gate his lands 
In Virginia to him as surety 
For supplies. 

" At last the day of reck'ning 
Came. The Yankee complain'd of tardy payment ; 
Felt touch'd to the quick in consequence, 
And vouchsafed to lend our chief no more funds. 

" So, one bright morning, the captain awoke 
To the consciousness that shadowy ills 
Obscur'd his stores at home ; and once more . 

steer' d 
His shatter'd barque across the ocean wave. 
On arriving home he found his domains 
Were laid wasto by the war which fiercely raged 
Upon his native soil, his slaves set free ; 
In short, his happy home, and what remained 
Of his once fair realms, confiscated were 
By the Federal jackals. 



THE FLOWEE OF SHENANDOAH. 145 

" But yet his cup of 
Mis'ry was not full : one drop it lack'd 
More turgid still. Adverse fate deign'd to add 
Poignancy to his misfortunes : for with 
Harsh disdain the maiden's father on him 
Fix'd an eye malignant, and with anger 
Bade him never more to cross his threshold. 

"Struck with such unkindness, our chieftain 
took 
It in his heart to loath forever more 
The Yankees, and swore he'd hold dread reverence 
O'er their heads, joined our cause, then took these 

hiUs 
To—" 

Awe-struck, they him beheld. He came with 

Hurried tread. Amazed, he stood awhile as 

If some boding ill gleam'd through his eyes. 

Soon his abject crew bent to his pride, and quit 

The bivouac his wishes to fulfill : 

12 



146 

To forage round and ransack spots, wliich, in 
Open day, their footsteps fear'd to tread. 

When gone, the ingrate bold the weak maid 
eyed 
O'er and o'er ; gave her many a wishful look ; 
And urg'd by lust, the leafy couch approach'd 
On which she slumbering lay. She started up 
As from a trance, with hair dishevell'd much, 
And features fix'd in stern expression wild. 
And on him threw the keenest dart of scorn. 

Barb'rously severe he her accused of 
Trait'rous complicity, and, indignant. 
Said : " Haughty fair one, now thy doom's decreed. 
Thou shalt have but one hour more to Hnger here, 
If now thou dost not to my wishes lend 
A gracious ear." 

Down on her knees Daisy 
Look'd up at him with mild, imploring eyes. 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 147 

And with anguish in her bosom, wailing, 
Said : " Alas ! he's thought severe who thus con- 
demns 
The innocent and unhappy. Hast thou 
Not one friend to whom the sacred heart relies 
For truth and honor ? If not, then such have 
I — one ardent, noble, kind : In faith and hope 
Unfaltering we are bound." 

But her soft pleadings 
Could not move his hardened heart : It was bereft 
Of all that's meek and tender. He heeded not 
Her tears, her firm faith, nor virtue proud, 
But said : " You'll never see your lover more. 
In prison he now wears his chains. P'rhaps ere 
Now, the Yankee's rotten carcase has been 
To the buzzards thrown." " Then if Athol is 
To me forever lost," she cried, " God bless 
His soul. His image so dear to my sight shall 
In my heart be firmly fixed, nor ever 
From my cherish'd memory fade. But thou, 



148 



Vile minion of all that's mean and great, 
The willing tool of that vain man whose pride 
Is phrenzy, whose ambition's but despair, 
Whose heart is void of ev'ry spark divine, 
The curse of orphans and the cause of 
Many a widow's tear, know that you may 
Glitter in your infamy awhile ; 
But the potent grasp of might shall be soon 
Wrested from you : The majesty of pow'r 
Is in the avenging sword held in the hand 
Of Heav'n i 'twill yet descend upon and burst 
Your vaunted bubble to the sun, aye, blast 
Your lauded greatness : Deeds of retribution 
Deal unto the mean and base ambitious fools 
Upon the gibbet ; and righteous justice 
Yet shall hurl upon thee its avenging ire. 
For the wrongs which thou hast cruelly brought 
Upon my Athol's hapless head : Aye, you 
Who came into that happy home where dwelt 
In blessed peace the innocent whose ears 
Were strangers to the blast and din of war. 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 149 

And vilely brought, therein, mucli misery. 
Wretchedness and mourning. My father's name 
Blasphem'd with curses foul, then reft him from 
Me, and in a dungeon dire, him thrust, to pine, 
To starve, and die : my aged mother caused 
Through pining grief to sink into her grave 
Ere she'd time to don a widow's mourning weeds ; 
And me an outcast orphan made for hfe. 
But remember, yours is but a weak boast 
Of transitory power. Successful guilt 
Can but triumph awhile : For soon before 
The keen, relentless weapons of the Noi-th, 
Both your stuck-up pride and cause shall 
Tumble : 'tis to them alone revenge is 
Given. Beware." 

At this, in drunken fury. 

The chieftain laugh'd outright, and said: "Murmur 

Not, my dear, fond bird. Do you think I'd injure 

A bosom so fair. Beauty like thine was 

Form'd for joy ; and you must own I'm now 
13* 



150 

Your lawful lord." 

Then lie strove witli eager arms 
To grasp her. As quick she from his touch re- 

coil'd. 
" Shrink not," he angrily cried. " Succumb 
To my power thou must, or, in this dense wood 
Unseen by mortal eye, from Hfe to death 
Thou soon shalt pass ; for, longer my mind 
Thy indiff 'rence can't bear, thy peevish censures 
Endure : nought but thy consent to be my bride 
Can satisfy my burning soul." Saying which, 
He grasped her by her long dishevell'd hair. 
"Swear," he cried, "ere this dagger's keen edge 

shaU 
In your heart's blood be imbrued." 

*^ No, no," she said, 
" Eate will ne'er permit me to touch thy hand. 
It hath the stain of murder'd blood ; and such love 
As thine, the tender-hearted would defile : 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 151 

Forever unhappy she'd be whose bosom 
Hath therein sincere passion glowing. No, 
My honor Hves for one most dear to my heart. 
Therefore, if my ardent troth for him I love 
Can't kindle in thy breast compassion's warmth, 
Why longer the sacrifice delay ? Why 
TantaHze your victim like a cat ere 
You destroy ? or Hke the venom'd adder 
Coil your folds around ere you sting to death 
Your prey ? For well I know he who would not 
Spare my father's Hfe will not spare my own ; 
And death would end the tortures which now rack 
My beating heart. But beware. He yet lives 
For whom my soul with sacred fervor burns. 
He whom thy bold hands hath svray'd with cruelty. 
But who will yet thy proud triumph guilt 
Avenge." 

Then reviving wrath the chieftain's soul 
Inflam'd. The name of Athol moved his heart 
To hate ; and black as night he frown'd and spent 



152 DAISY SWAI]S^. 

His rage on helpless Daisy, who struggled 

At his feet. Her clasp'd hands cHnging round his 

knees ; 
"With dripping eyes to Heav'n raised and crying, 
" Oh ! God of mercy ! is there no friend nigh ?" 
" There is a friend," a deep gruff voice behind 
A rock exclaim'd. " Arrogant knave, forbear." 
The rebel heard the voice. It rived his heart. 
His stern determined look he took from off 
The mortal place, and quick with fright he started 
Back, recoil'd and dropt unstain'd upon the 

ground 
His sheathless dirk, which high above her head 
He held. 

Again he heard the voice upon 
The midnight blast exclaim, " Outcast of earth 
Is searching among these hills, to ravish 
Helpless women, then to thrust them from you 
As in scorn, to miu'der in cold blood 
Thy vaunted chivalry ? The crimes which you've 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 153 

Already done, now cry aloud to Heaven 
For vengeance. Therefore, thou rebel reprobate I 
Beware. If you murder her nigh strangled 
At your feet, hell's furies, that now thirst 
Unceasing for your blood, wiU pursue you 
Everywhere. Horrid sounds will rise on 
Ev'ry wind and in your blood-stained conscience 
Howl these words : * Seducer, coward, murderer.' " 

Pale turned the chieftain's cheeks : His joints 
trembled 
As if by an intermittent ague shook. 
Then he quickly, like a fleeting shadow, 
Vanish'd through the gloom, whilst the voice, 

meantime, 
Hard on his trail, cried : " Thou curst, abandon'd 

wretch. 
Well may'st thou fly from guilt's alarms. 
But never from your wicked conscience. 




CHAPTEK X. 

!lj)ai$\}'$ Bescuo — ItiJeij ^tDelivcjiei^ — lljicti Meeting with 
j^thol — ^he Battle — Beath of the Lovei|$. 



When the cliieftain deep into the forest shade 
Had fled, the stranger from his covert hied 
To the gloomy spot where Daisy's cries for 
Mercy had arisen, and found her there 
Half dead by fear, murmuring in despair. 



THE FLOWEE OF SHENANDOAH. 155 

Soon lie from tlie ground her faint form raised, 
And in her livid cheeks beheld how much, 
Alas ! her inmost heart was wounded. Then 
From the rocky cell along a vernal path 
He bore his fragile trust in safety, 
Until a hazel glade he reached, where obscur'd 
From curious sight, he halted near 
A tinkHng rill, which down a pebbly steep 
Slow trickling ran, and with its ice-cool water 
Daisy's fevered temples lav'd. 

Soon with 
Open eyes she hailed the breaking morn's gray 

light; 
Her ears caught the plaintive murmur of the rill ; 
Her low voice muttered, " Where am I ? By whom 
Thus held hand bound ? Who's my dehverer ?" 

'Twas then the stranger read with glad surprise 
Her brighten'd looks, and thro' her gleaming eyes 
Saw her life was safe ; but yet a symbol 



156 



There reveal'd some hidden secret in her heart. 
Which, altho* her charms had been by the keen 

bHght 
Of sorrow faded, still show'd that the soft tinge 
Of beauty lingered on her care-worn cheeks. 

" Oh, Sir," she said, " to you I owe my life. 
To you my grateful thanks are due. Never 
Can my heart renounce thy hallow'd friendship's 

claim." 
Then she told him all about her hard fate : 
"What wrongs she'd from the rebels borne, and how 
Of father, mother, friends bereft ; and one. 
Also, who found her young, torn from her fair. 
" Ah !" she sigh'd, " oft together we have form'd 
Our mutual faiths with fondest truths, and sealed, 
With true love sighs, our promised hymen vow. 
But being then of him and friends bereft 
By that pamper'd son of vice and tyranny. 
No one was left who could my griefs assauge ; 
And oft I've visited the blissful bowers 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 157 

Where we were wont to meet, and wander'd often 
O'er and o'er again our fiel oi cheerful love ; 
But all those once bright scenes were clouded ; 
Nor sun, nor moon, nor stars had light for me. 
Each hour his absence wrung my heart. Many 
Long, sad days I heard no tidings of him ; 
And feared I was, alas ! forever doom'd 
His friendship's bitter loss to taste, when — " Here 
She paused to wipe away the tears that dimm'd 
Her 



" Alas !" her friend then cried, " how strange 

Do secret sympathies human souls pervade ! 

The hardest heart in grief like thine would feel 

A share ; and even now to see thee weep, 

Connects with thine my own remember'd joys 

Unto thy wretchedness ; for thy plight afflicts 

My heart, and, like me, I learn thou art to love 

And keen despair a prey, — a victim of 

The self same ruffian vile who thrust me in 

A dungeon dark, where many weary days 

14 



158 DAISY SWAIN, 

And nights I, caged up like an untamed beast, 
Imprison'd sat, a hapless vassal bound, 
Pining in darkness, famisli'd, and benumbed 
By damps, clanking my slavish chains, and 

counting 
Many a weary hour of my dull life 
Away, thinking that if I could but rend 
The links that gall'd my heart, I'd quickly fly 
To the dear pledge whom to my first-born hopes 
Was known — one whose face I found in pride of 
iBeauty fair, and in whose lustrous blue eye 
Her gentle spirit shone. O that Daisy 
Now were nigh to hear my voice, I'd — " 

Daisy felt 
Like being lifted to the clouds, and fixed 
Her eyes fuU on the stranger. " I see, I see 1" 
She cried, " thou art none else but Athol I 
This yeoman's guise is all delusion I" 
With one accordant pause an attitude 
They struck ; and mute awhile they stood in aU 



THE FLOWER OF SHEITANDOAH. 159 

The silent eloquence of love ; then rush'd 
Into each others' arms. 

Heart to heart they press'd — 
Burning kisses seal'd their lips. Raptures raised 
Their two embodied souls to heaven, for 
They knew not where they stood. Creation, too, 
Her grateful voice uplifted ; as the sky, 
Just then, with joyous light an unclouded 
Aspect wore. Gaily the birds, in pairs. 
On lithe wings flutter'd about them. Their jocund 

songs 
Attuned made the welkin'ring with mirth. 

Soon from the wretched Daisy Athol's presence 
Banish'd care ; her falling tears dried, and caus'd 
Life's mantling current high to mount her face. 
Her humorous heart then dimpled her cheek with 
Smiles. The lucid gladness over all 
Her features spread. Sonorous and clear she 
vented 



160 DAISY SWAIN, 

Forth a joyous laugh at seeing Athol 

In disguise. He, too, in sweet astonishment 

Smiled and said : " 'Tis done to cheat the rebel's 

sight ; 
For, the human mind, you know, is well versed 
In deceit : The sire of falsehood practised 
It ; the rebels follow him ; we copy 
Them — ^perhaps with more consummate art." 

'Twas 

Thus that their strange meeting on each other 
Much unsullied pleasure did bestow. Then 
Daisy mildly said : " Come, Athol, let us 
Hasten from this place : It is the shrine of 
Rebels, and the air around is tainted 
With their breaths. Come, let us go ere the 

brood of 
Vile cut-throats bar our paths." 

"No, Daisy, no," 
Cried Athol, "Fame, honor, truth, forbid it. 



THE FLOWER OF SHENAI^DOAH. 161 

The dastard sycophant who mock'd at me 
Scarce heal'd of my wounds, and yon an orphan 
Made, to suffer from hunger and p'rhaps die, 
Unpitied, among my friends a speedy fate 
Must find : as justice for the wrongs the brute 
Has done, the crimes which he's exulted o'er 
Demand his doom. Yet, being a scout, it would 
Be prudent, now to leave ere danger may 
In direst form arise and disconcert 
My well laid plans to capture the guerrillas, 
For our corps is now encamp'd upon the edge 
Of this small stream just where it runs through 
yonder cedar grove." 

Then they clasped their hands and sighed the 

vow that 

They would, when the battle ceased and he had 

Swept with giant strength the proud survivor 

Of their wrongs from earth, be wed. So, Daisy, 

Hailed the dawn of that bright day, thinking 

much 

.1.4.* 



162 DAISY SWAIK, 

Of tlie sweet promise and of many years 
Of bliss in store, and said whatever might 
Betide, she'd share his fate on future fields 
Of proud renown or fall with him in victory. 
So, trusting in Heaven for strength and quick 
"With nimble feet she with him flew, to dare 
The paths which Athol oft had dared before. 

Then ere the redd'ning sun that day had set, 
Sounds of drums and war's alarms were heard 

upon 
The wind. Hosts of men with hollow eyes, 
Haggard cheeks, and with their bright arms 

gleaming 
In the sun, cross'd Potomac's flood to wage 
Impious war upon Antietam's plain. 
There McClellan brave, his country's pride, but 
Short-hved faction's hate, unfurled his banner 
To the vent'rous foe, and led in proud array 
His daring thousands forth, who far and wide 



THE FLOWER OF SHEISTANDOAH. 163 
Dispersed Lee*s plund'ring hosts. 

In Daisy's eyes 
It was an awful sight to see, face to face, 
Christian freemen stand in line of battle dread 
Hurhng ruin, waste, and death around her : 
Terrible the vengeful shouts and horrid yeUs 
"Which rose amid the thundering cannon's peal : 
Heart-rending cries of mortal agony, 
And shrieks of death from mangled corse ascend- 
ing. 

And when the discordant din of strife had 
Died upon the evening breeze, she bounded 
'Midst the heroic slain, and called, with cries 
Of sadness, the name of him who promised 
Her, ere long, the nuptial ring. So, onward, 
"Wild in aspect, across the bloody plain 
She flew, searching, with tearful eyes along, 
With brothers o'er brothers bending, fathers 
O'er slaughter'd sons, and friends loudly mingling 



164 



DAISY SWAIiq-, 



Their lamentations with the wonnded's groans. 
Her Athol's bleeding form ; when soon, among 
The ghastly slain, she spied, prostrate upon 




The ensanguined ground, the guerilla chief, 
Athol's mortal foe, 'gainst whom he strove in 
Eage of battle hot, and triumph'd o'er at last 
For, a deadly minie ball from Athol's 
Well-aimed carbine had gone whizzing where 



THE FLOWER OF SHENANDOAH. 165 

The chieftain stood, ui-ging on his men, and sank 
Him 'mid the rebel dead. 

Seeing his fate, 
She raised her hands on high, and utter 'd " God 
Be praised, thy retribution's just :" then hurried 
On in grief, low bending, scrutinizing. 
In the moon's pale beam, ev'ry pallid face 
That lay cold in death, to find her love. 

Soon from the blood-stained grass a muttered 
prayer 
"With mournful groans upon her ears sounded. 
Quickly whence the moans arose she hastened ; 
And there, alas ! quite faint, expiring, saw 
Her lover writhing in his wounds, bleeding 
Fast, all welt'ring in his life blood, gasping 
Hard for breath ; his dark hair drenched with 

gore ; his 
Musket by his side, its handle firmly gTasped. 



166 



DAISY SWAIN, 




Franticly, slie called him by his name ; stooped 
And fondly clasped her Athol to her heart, 
Brushed the matted locks back from his brow and 
Gazing on his dying eyes, she bade him speak 



THE FLOWER OF SHET^AIfDOAH. 167 

One dear fond word to her, his Daisy fair. 
He muttered " Oh ! is that you, love, my bride ?" 
Then gave a gurghng sound and lay a breathless 
corpse. 

Swift frenzy lit her eyes. A mortal pang 
Her heart struck. She gave a shriek and cried 

aloud, 
" Oh ! God, thy will be done," then fell upon 
Her lover's clay-cold corse, kissed his bloodless lips 
And on his mangled bosom died. 



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